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0  THE  tlBRABY  OP  o 


THE  GRAFTON  HISTORICAL  SERIES 

Edited  by  HENRY  R.  STILES,  A.M.,  M.D. 


The    Grafton    Historical     Series 

Edited  by  Henry  R.  Stiles.  A.M.,  M.D. 

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In  Olde  Connecticut 

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CHARLES   BURR   TODD 

of  -In  01(1 
New  \ 


IN 


OLDE   MASSACHUSETTS 

SKETCHES   OF   OLD   TIMES  AND  PLACES 

DURING  THE  EARLY  DAYS  OF  THE 

COMMONIVEALTH 


BY 

CHARLES   BURR   TODD 

Author  of   "  In  Olde  Connecticut "  "  The  Story  of  the  City  of 
New  York,"  "The  True  Aaron  Burr  " 


THE    GRAFTON    PRESS 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 


Copyright,  1907, 
By  the  GRAFTON  PRESS. 


FOREWORD 

TO  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Massachusetts,  who 
love  her  history  and  traditions,  this  little  book  is 
dedicated. 

Many  things  given  therein  were  dug  from  mines 
never  before  explored  by  the  literary  craftsman,  and 
have  the  value  of  original  discoveries.  They  were 
first  printed  in  various  journals  between  the  years 
1880-1890,  which  fact  should  be  borne  in  mind  by  the 
reader  who  discovers  that  certain  conditions  portrayed 
in  the  descriptive  articles  no  longer  exist. 

C.  B.  T. 
May,  1907. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I    Cambridge  in  Midsummer  (1883)   .  1 

II    A  Day  in  Lexington     ...  8 

III  Concord  Memories        ...  14 

IV  Autumn  Days  in  Quincy  (1883)     .  21 
V    Brook  Farm  in  1881       ...  29 

VI    A  Visit  to  Plymouth   (1882)         .  36 

VII    A  Day  at  Green  Harbor  (1882)    .  46 

VIII    Salem 55 

IX    Another  View  of  Salem        .         ,  65 

X    Marblehead  Scenes  (1885)   .         .  69 

XI    Quaint  Old  Barnstable        .         .  75 

XII    Nantucket  Stories        ...  85 

XIII  Nantucket's  First  Tea  Party     .  90 

XIV  Ships  and  Sailors  of  Nantucket  .  97 
XV    An  Anti-Slavery  Pioneer      .         .  107 

XVI    The    Sea    Fight    off    Maddeque- 

cham           .         .         .         .         .112 
XVII    A  Typical  Nantucket  Merchant  .  117 
XVIII    The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket     .  126 
XIX    Wrecks  and  Wrecking           .         .  142 
XX    Nantucket  Entertains  the  Gov- 
ernor        .....  150 


vm 


Contents 


XXI 

The  Mashpees,  1885 

. 

161 

XXII 

Provincetown 

. 

173 

XXIII 

Martha's  Vineyard  (1882) 

. 

179 

XXIV 

Northampton 

. 

187 

XXV 

Historic  Deerfield 

. 

195 

XXVI 

Pittsfield,  a  Home  of  Poets, 

1885 

200 

XXVII 

WiLLIAMSTOWN         THE         BeAUTIFUL 

(1885)           .... 

. 

204 

XXVIII 

Monument  Mountain    . 

. 

209 

XXIX 

Lenox  in  1883 

. 

215 

XXX 

The  Hoosac  Tunnel 

222 

XXXI 

The  Cape  Cod  Canal  a  Quarter- 

Century  Ago 

230 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Washington  Elm,  Cambridge Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Washington's  Headquarters,  Cambridge 4 

The  Bridge  at  Concord 14 

The  Old  Quincy  House 26 

Pilgrim  Hall,  Plymouth 36 

Daniel  Webster's  Home,  Green  Harbor 48 

The  Custom  House  at  Salem 66 

View  of  Marblehead  Harbor 70 

A  Typical  Nantucket  House 90 

The  Bark  Canton 130 

The  Edwards   Elm,  Northampton 190 

The  Stone  Face  on  Monument  Mountain,  Stockbridge   .       .  210 

Indian  Burial  Place,  Stockbridge 214 

The  Hawthorne  Cottage,  Lenox 218 


IN     OLDE     MASSACHUSETTS 


IN  OLDE  MASSACHUSETTS 

CHAPTER  I 

CAMBRIDGE    IN    MIDSUMMER,    1883 

/Cambridge  in  midsummer  is  vastly  different 
^-^  from  the  Cambridge  of  the  college  year.  Except 
for  a  few  members  of  the  summer  classes,  under- 
graduate life  is  still;  professors  and  tutors  are  o£P  to 
mountain  or  seashore;  only  the  bursar  and  janitors 
remain,  while  under  the  classic  elms,  instead  of  grave, 
spectacled  scholars  one  meets  painters,  glaziers,  uphol- 
sterers, and  other  members  of  the  renovating  corps. 
Most  of  the  wealthy  and  cultivated  families  who  make 
the  place  their  winter  home  have  also  gone,  and  one 
discovers  how  dull,  so  far  as  mere  physical  animation 
is  concerned,  a  university  town  may  be  without  the 
university  life.  To  the  dreamy  or  reflective  visitor, 
however,  the  place  presents  now  its  most  interesting 
aspect.  He  can  loiter  about  the  college  quadrangles 
and  assimilate  whatever  about  them  is  venerable  in 
history,  grand  in  effort,  or  noble  through  association, 
without  being  stumbled  over  by  hurrying  undergradu- 
ates or  eyed  askance  by  officious  proctors.  Then,  too, 
the  historic  houses  in  the  town  are  more  accessible,  and 


2  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

the  aged  citizens  who  remain,  more  chatty  and  gossipy 
than  in  the  busier  season. 

Could  anything  be  more  worthy  or  venerable,  for 
instance,  than  Massachusetts  Hall  —  a  mouldy,  mossy 
brick  pile  on  the  west  of  the  quadrangle,  built  in  1718 
at  the  expense  of  the  Government,  and  christened  with 
the  name  of  the  colony?  All  the  glory  of  the  State 
seems  to  invest  it.  Or  the  Old  Wadsworth  House,  on 
Harvard  Street,  built  in  172G,  the  home  of  the  early 
presidents  of  the  college,  the  headquarters  of  Washing- 
ton and  Lee,  the  gathering  place  of  all  the  patriot 
leaders  of  the  Revolution  —  one  feels  that  the  authori- 
ties cannot  be  aware  of  its  history,  to  have  put  it  to  the 
uses  which  it  bears  —  a  dormitory  for  students  and  an 
office  for  bursar  and  janitor.  Harvard  Hall  is  another 
of  the  time-honored  structures  in  the  quadrangle.  It 
was  built  by  order  of  the  General  Court  in  1765,  and 
from  its  roof,  in  1775,  1,000  pounds  of  lead  were  taken 
and  made  into  bullets  for  the  needy  Continentals. 
Washington  was  received  there  in  1789.  In  the  first 
Stoughton  Hall,  also  within  the  quadrangle,  the  Pro- 
visional Congress  held  its  sessions,  and  mapped  out 
the  plan  of  the  opening  campaign. 

The  present  Stoughton  Hall,  erected  in  1805,  is 
notable  for  the  many  eminent  men  who  have  been 
sheltered  within  its  walls;  Edward  Everett,  Josiah 
Quincy,  the  Peabody  brothers,  Caleb  Cushing,  Horatio 
Greenough,  Sumner,  Hilliard,  Hoar,  Hale,  and  Holmes 


Cambridge  in  Midsummer  3 

being  among  them.  HoUis  Hall,  next  south  of  Stough- 
ton,  was  also  noteworthy  in  this  respect;  Prescott, 
Emerson,  Wendell  Phillips,  Charles  Francis  Adams, 
and  Thoreau  having  been  among  its  occupants. 

But  Harvard  is  not  all  of  Cambridge;  there  is  as 
much  without  as  within  the  campus  to  interest  the 
tourist.  One  scarcely  realizes  the  historical  importance 
of  the  place  until  he  stands  beneath  the  Washington 
elm  beside  the  ancient  Common.  This  Common  is 
noteworthy  because  here  the  first  American  army  was 
marshaled,  the  American  flag  was  first  unfurled, 
and  the  raw  Continental  levies  were  organized  and 
drilled  for  the  attack  on  Bunker  Hill.  The  elm  is 
famous  because  under  it  Washington  took  command 
of  the  army,  and  because  from  a  little  stand  built  high 
up  in  its  branches  he  could  watch  the  movements  of 
his  antagonists  in  any  direction.  The  old  tree  has  been 
surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  in  front  of  which  is  a 
granite  tablet  bearing  this  inscription,  written  by 
Longfellow : 

"Under  this  tree  Washington  first  took  command 
of  the  American  army,  July  3,  1775." 

The  old  relic  has  long  been  engaged  in  a  pathetic 
struggle  with  age  and  decay.  Nearly  all  of  its  original 
limbs  have  decayed  from  the  top  down,  leaving  only 
their  stumps  attached  to  the  parent  trunk,  and  most  of 
what  is  green  about  it  has  sprung  from  these  stumps, 
or  from  the  vigorous  old  trunk. 


4  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Under  this  elm  the  thinker  is  prone  to  yield  to  Cam- 
bridge priority  among  American  historic  places.  Lex- 
ington and  Concord  were  mere  emeutes.  This  was  the 
point  of  decision,  the  matrix  of  nationality,  the  birth- 
place of  concerted,  organized  resistance,  while  Putnam, 
spurring  here  on  the  news  of  Lexington,  taking  com- 
mand of  the  excited,  unprovided  farmers,  sending 
hourly  expresses  to  Trumbull  at  Lebanon  for  arms, 
powder,  provisions,  and  finally  leading  the  organized 
battalions  up  to  Bunker  Hill,  is  the  true  liistoric  figure- 
piece  of  the  Revolution. 

No  town  boasts  such  a  wealth  of  ancient  and  note- 
worthy houses  as  Cambridge.  A  few  minutes'  walk 
from  the  old  oak,  on  Brattle  Street,  is  a  fine  old-time 
mansion,  seated  on  a  terrace  a  little  back  from  the 
street,  which  possesses  a  character,  a  dignity,  that 
would  render  it  a  marked  house  even  to  one  unac- 
quainted with  its  history.  This  is  the  old  Washington 
Headquarters,  better  known  during  the  last  forty  years 
as  the  home  of  Longfellow.  Its  history  dates  back 
to  1739,  when  it  was  built  by  one  Col.  John  Vassal. 
In  the  troubles  of  1775,  Vassal  espoused  the  British 
cause,  and  was  obliged  to  flee  into  the  English  lines, 
whereupon  Col.  John  Glover,  with  his  Marblehead 
regiment,  took  possession.  In  July,  1775,  Washington 
fixed  his  headquarters  here,  and  remained  until  the 
following  February.  Madam  Washington  and  her 
maids  arrived  in  December,  and  held  many  levees  and 


Cambridge  in  Midsummer  5 

dinner  parties  here,  it  is  said,  through  the  winter. 
After  the  war  several  gentlemen  owned  it  for  short 
periods. 

During  Dr.  Craigie's  occupancy  Talleyrand  and  the 
Duke  of  Kent  were  entertained  there.  Jared  Sparks 
resided  there  in  1833.  Edward  Everett  was  also  a 
resident  at  one  time.  In  1837  Longfellow,  on  his 
return  from  Europe  to  assume  the  professor's  chair  in 
Harvard,  took  possession  of  the  mansion,  and  in  1843 
purchased  it.  Of  its  subsequent  history  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  speak. 

The  park  about  the  house  comprises  some  eight 
acres.  Passing  up  the  broad  graveled  walk,  we 
sounded  the  old-fashioned  knocker  on  the  door,  and 
presently  a  pleasant-faced  matron  —  the  housekeeper 
—  answered  the  summons.  To  our  inquiry  if  visitors 
were  now  admitted  to  the  library,  she  replied  that  they 
were  not,  as  the  family  was  away,  and  the  rooms  had 
been  closed  until  their  return;  then,  seeing  our  look  of 
disappointment,  she  inquired  if  we  had  come  far,  and 
on  our  informing  her  that  we  were  from  New  York 
and  members  of  the  guild,  she  kindly  admitted  us  to 
the  study.  From  the  wide  hall  we  stepped  at  once  into 
this  study  —  a  large,  airy  front  room  on  the  right  as 
one  enters.  A  round  center-table  occupied  the  middle 
of  the  room,  on  which  were  grouped  the  poet's  favorite 
books,  several  manuscript  poems  as  they  came  from 
his  hand,  his  inkstand,  pen,  and  other  familiar  articles. 


6  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Mr.  Ernest  Longfellow's  fine  portrait  of  his  father  in  a 
corner  of  the  room  is  a  noteworthy  feature.  The  fur- 
niture, table,  and  all  the  appointments  of  the  room 
are  as  they  were  left  by  the  former  occupant,  and  we 
learned  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  family  to  pre- 
serve them  in  this  condition. 

Down  Brattle  Street  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further,  on 
the  opposite  side,  is  Elmwood,  the  home  of  the  Lowells 
for  two  generations,  and  for  years  the  seat  of  James 
Russell  Lowell.  This  house,  too,  has  a  history;  it  was 
built  about  1760,  and  previous  to  the  Revolution  was 
the  home  of  Lieut.-Gov.  Thomas  Olivers,  the  last  of  the 
English  colonial  rulers.  Olivers  abdicated  in  1775, 
in  compliance,  as  he  explained,  with  the  command  of  a 
mob  of  4,000  persons  who  had  surrounded  his  house. 
A  little  later  it  was  used  as  a  hospital  for  the  wounded 
in  the  skirmish  on  Bunker  Hill,  and  the  field  opposite 
was  taken  for  the  burial  of  the  dead.  Elbridge  Gerry 
resided  here  for  a  term  of  years,  his  successor  being  the 
Rev.  Charles  Lowell,  father  of  the  poet.  The  house 
and  grounds  could  not  be  quainter  or  more  delightfully 
rural  if  they  were  a  hundred  miles  in  the  interior.  The 
original  mansion,  the  great  pines  and  elms,  the  old 
barn,  outhouses,  and  orchard,  have  been  preserved  as 
they  existed  a  hundred  years  ago. 

Another  mansion  notable  in  letters  is  the  Holmes 
House,  near  the  Common,  between  Kirkland  Street 
and  North  Avenue,  an  old  gambrel-roofed  structure. 


Cambridge  in  Midsummer  7 

with  the  mosses  of  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  chnging  to  its  clapboards.  Here  the  Committee 
of  Safety  planned  the  organization  of  the  army;  it  was 
also  for  a  short  time  the  headquarters  of  Washington. 
Some  years  after  the  war  the  place  came  into  the 
possession  of  Judge  Oliver  Wendell,  maternal  grand- 
father of  the  poet,  from  whom  it  passed  to  the  Rev. 
Abiel  Holmes,  the  father  of  the  Autocrat  of  the  Break- 
fast Table.  "Old  Ironsides"  was  one  of  the  many 
poems  written  within  its  walls.  It  is  now  the  property 
of  the  college. 

The  Lee,  the  Fayerweather,  the  Brattle,  the  Water- 
house,  and  other  mansions  have  famous  and  interest- 
ing histories;  but  we  have  perhaps  said  enough  to  give 
the  reader  an  idea  of  what  a  midsummer  walk  in  Cam- 
bridge may  develop. 


CHAPTER  II 

A   DAT   IN   LEXINGTON 

rriHE  drive  from  Boston  to  Lexington  is  one  rarely 
-^  taken  by  tourists,  but  is  a  most  interesting  excur- 
sion nevertheless,  particularly  if  one  has  for  cicerone 
one  familiar  with  the  towns  and  their  history.  Getting 
over  the  Charles  and  beyond  the  suburbs,  one  is  sur- 
prised to  find  himself  in  a  region  so  wild  and  sparsely 
populated.  The  land  is  sterile,  the  hill  pastures 
covered  with  sweet  fern  and  whortleberry  bushes,  and 
the  farmhouses  few  and  far  between.  We  followed 
pretty  definitely  the  route  of  the  British  on  the  fateful 
morning  of  the  19th  of  April,  and  in  an  hour  and  a  half 
drove  into  Arlington,  the  only  considerable  town  on 
the  way.  In  1775  it  was  a  little  hamlet  bearing  its 
aboriginal  name,  but  famous  for  its  tavern  —  the  Black 
Horse,  —  which  was  the  meeting  place  of  both  the  town 
committees  of  safety  and  supplies.  "The  floor  of  this 
tavern  was  stained  with  the  first  blood  shed  in  the 
Revolution,"  observed  my  friend  as  we  drove  past. 
After  Paul  Revere  dashed  into  Lexington  at  midnight 
with  his  note  of  alarm,  scouts  were  sent  down  the 
Boston  road  as  far  as  Arlington  to  give  notice  of  the 


A  Day  in  Lexington  9 

enemy's  approach.  One  of  these  videttes  was  nearly 
surprised  in  the  tavern  by  the  British  advance,  another, 
Samuel  Whittemore  by  name,  was  shot,  bayoneted, 
and  left  for  dead  in  the  street  opposite,  and  after  his 
assailants  left,  was  borne  bleeding  into  the  tavern 
where  his  wounds  were  dressed.  He  eventually  re- 
covered. 

Three  hours  after  leaving  Boston  we  drove  into 
Lexington.  The  village  has  escaped  the  fate  of  many 
Massachusetts  towns  and  is  as  quietly  rural  now  as  a 
hundred  years  ago.  A  long  main  street,  shaded  by 
elms,  and  a  pretty  green  of  perhaps  an  acre,  surrounded 
by  straggling  village  houses,  are  its  prominent  features. 
At  the  south  end  of  the  green  is  a  tall  flagstaff,  bearing 
aloft  a  motto  which  informs  the  tourist  that  on  that  spot 
American  Freedom  was  born.  Further  north,  on  the 
mound  where  many  of  Captain  Parker's  men  "abided 
the  event"  that  April  morning,  stands  a  monument, 
erected  by  the  citizens  of  Lexington  at  the  expense  of 
the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  in  memory  of 
their  fellow-citizens.  Ensign  Robert  Monroe,  and 
Messrs.  John  Parker,  Samuel  Hadley,  Jonathan  Har- 
rington, Jr.,  Isaac  Muzzey,  Caleb  Harrington,  and 
John  Brown,  of  liCxington,  and  Asahel  Porter,  of 
Woburn,  "  who  fell  on  this  field,  the  first  victims  to  the 
sword  of  British  Tyranny  and  Oppression,  on  the 
morning  of  the  ever  memorable  Nineteenth  of  April, 
1775." 


10  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

"The  die  was  cast.  The  blood  of  these  martyrs,  in 
the  cause  of  God  and  their  country,  was  the  cement  of 
the  Union  of  these  States,  then  colonies,  and  gave  the 
spring  to  the  spirit,  firmness,  and  resolution  of  their 
citizens.  They  rose  as  one  man  to  avenge  their 
bretlu'en's  Blood,  and  at  the  point  of  the  sword  to  assert 
and  defend  their  native  rights.  They  nobly  dared  to 
be  free.  The  contest  was  long,  bloody,  and  affecting. 
Righteous  Heaven  approved  the  solemn  appeal.  Vic- 
tory crowned  their  arms;  the  Peace,  Liberty  and  In- 
dependence of  the  United  States  was  their  glorious 
reward." 

Some  of  the  local  incidents  of  the  fight,  as  narrated 
by  my  friend,  are  given  in  the  books  and  need  not  be 
repeated  here;  to  others,  however,  he  imparted  so  novel 
and  realistic  a  tone  that  I  shall  venture  to  repeat  them. 
Leading  me  to  a  spot  on  the  Common  a  little  north  of 
the  site  of  the  old  meeting-house,  he  remarked :  "  Right 
here  fell  Jonathan  Harrington.  His  wife  stood  in  her 
door  yonder  watching  liim,  and  saw  him  fall,  partly 
rise  and  fall  again,  with  the  blood  streaming  from  his 
breast;  at  last  he  crept  across  the  road  and  died  at  her 
feet.  The  ammunition  was  stored  in  the  meeting- 
house, and  four  men  were  there  filling  their  cartridge 
boxes  when  the  firing  began.  One  of  them,  Joshua 
Simonds,  cocked  his  musket,  and  ensconced  himself 
beside  an  open  cask  of  powder,  declaring  that  he  would 
blow  the  building  to  pieces  before  that  powder  should 


A  Day  in  Lexington  11 

charge  His  Majesty's  muskets."  "Another  instance 
of  resolution  is  found  in  Jonas  Parker,  who  had  often 
sworn  that  he  would  never  run  from  the  British.  As 
they  appeared  he  loaded  his  musket,  placed  his  hat 
with  his  ammunition  in  it  on  the  ground  before  him, 
and  remained  there  loading  and  firing  until  killed  with 
the  bayonet."  "In  the  old  glebe  house  yonder,  on 
Hancock  Street,  then  occupied  by  the  Rev.  Sylvester 
Clark,  John  Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams  watched  the 
progress  of  the  fight;  they  would  no  doubt  have  taken 
part  in  it  had  they  not  been  restrained  by  a  guard  of  a 
sergeant  and  eight  men.  As  the  British  left  the  town, 
marcliing  toward  Concord,  they  withdrew  to  a  hill 
partly  covered  by  forest  southeast  of  the  house.  Wait- 
ing here,  Adams,  from  the  bare  summit  of  a  rock, 
observing  the  commotion  in  the  town  below,  remarked 
with  a  prophet's  insight,  '  What  a  glorious  morning  for 
America  is  this ! ' " 

There  is  quite  a  history  and  some  romance  connected 
with  the  presence  of  the  two  patriots  in  Lexington  that 
morning.  On  the  arrival,  a  short  time  before,  of  King 
George's  orders  to  hang  them  in  Boston,  if  caught, 
they  became  proscribed  men,  and  sought  a  refuge  with 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Clark,  of  Lexington,  a  relation  of  Han- 
cock. Mrs.  Thomas  Hancock,  widow  of  the  great 
merchant,  and  aunt  of  the  Governor,  with  her  pro- 
tegee. Miss  Dolly  Quincy,  then  affianced  to  the  Gov- 
ernor, were  also  present.     Miss  Dolly  was  the  belle  of 


12  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Boston,  very  beautiful  and  wilful  withal,  and  on  this 
occasion  the  cause  of  some  trouble  to  her  somewhat 
elderly  lover,  for  against  his  urgent  entreaties  she  per- 
sisted in  viewing  the  fight  from  her  chamber  window. 
Learning  that  their  capture  was  one  of  the  objects  of 
the  expedition,  the  two  patriots,  as  the  British  passed 
on,  retired  to  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  in 
Woburn,  the  ladies  accompanying  them.  Next  day 
the  wilful  Miss  Dolly  proposed  returning  to  her  father. 
Judge  Edmund  Quincy,  in  Boston,  but  Mr.  Hancock 
said  decidedly  that  she  should  not  return  while  there 
was  a  British  bayonet  in  Boston.  "Recollect,  Mr. 
Hancock,"  she  replied,  "that  I  am  not  under  your 
control  yet:  I  shall  go  in  to  my  father  to-morrow." 
She  was  overruled,  however,  and  the  whole  party,  a 
few  days  later,  passed  down  through  Connecticut  to 
the  seat  of  Thaddeus  Burr  in  Fairfield,  where,  in  the 
following  August,  Miss  Dolly  and  the  Governor  were 
married.  Tradition  says  they  rode  on  this  occasion 
in  a  light  carriage  drawn  by  four  horses,  with  coachmen 
and  footmen  in  attendance. 

Meanwhile,  in  Lexington  the  Committee  of  Safety 
had  dispatched  a  swift  courier  to  Watertown,  with 
news  of  the  morning's  affray,  and  the  committee  there 
at  once  commissioned  a  messenger.  Trail  Bissel,  to 
alarm  the  colonies.  I  have  seen  the  credentials  which 
this  messenger  carried,  stating  that  the  bearer.  Trail 
Bissel,  was  charged  to  alarm  the  country  quite  to  Con- 


A  Day  in  Lexington  13 

necticut,  and  desiring  all  patriots  to  furnish  him  fresh 
horses  as  needed.  From  indorsements  on  it  by  the 
committees  of  the  various  towns  it  appears  that  it  left 
Watertown  at  10  a.m.  on  April  19th  (Wednesday), 
reached  Brookline  at  11  a.m.,  and  Norwich  at  4  p.m.  on 
Thursday;  New  London  at  7  p.m.,  Lyme  on  Friday 
morning  at  1,  Saybrook  at  4  a.m.,  Killingworth  at  7  a.m., 
Guilford  at  10  a.m.,  Branford  at  noon.  New  Haven  in 
the  afternoon,  Fairfield  at  8  a.m.  on  Saturday,  New 
York  on  Sunday  at  4  p.m..  New  Brunswick  the  next 
day  at  2  a.m.,  Princeton  at  6,  and  Philadelphia  in  the 
afternoon. 


CHAPTER  III 

CONCORD    MEMORIES 

CONCORD  is,  or  should  be,  the  Mecca  of  the  cul- 
tivated; one  might  search  far  in  the  Old  World 
or  the  New  and  not  find  a  town  of  such  varied  literary 
and  historic  interest.  Memories  of  Hawthorne  and 
Emerson,  of  Thoreau,  Channing,  and  Margaret  Fuller 
invest  it,  and  there  still  remains  the  scholarly  society 
that  properly-accredited  visitors  have  long  found  so 
pleasant. 

One  cannot  walk  far  in  the  old  town  without  finding 
something  to  please  the  fancy  or  stir  the  pulse.  The 
goal  of  most  tourists  is  the  river  and  its  famous  bridge 
—  a  half-mile  from  town ;  but  on  the  way  thither  one 
meets  a  structure  quite  as  famous  in  its  way  —  the  Old 
Manse  of  Emerson  and  Hawthorne.  It  is  quite  old, 
and  stands  mossy  and  stately  behind  an  avenue  of  elm 
and  maple,  with  its  numerous  narrow-paned  windows 
in  front,  and  one  lone  outlook  from  its  quaint  dormer; 
still  habitable  and  inhabited,  although  nearly  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  years  have  passed  since  its  stout 
frame  was  raised.  A  pretty  green  lawn  surrounds  the 
house,  and  an  apple  orchard  slopes  in  the  rear  to  the 


The   Bridge  at   Concokd 
Showing  the  ^lonuments  at  Each  End  of  the  Bridge 


Concord  Memories  15 

Concord.  The  house  was  built  for  the  ministers  of 
the  town,  and,  save  a  short  interregnum  filled  by 
Hawthorne,  has  always  been  occupied  by  them  or 
their  descendants.  The  room  above  the  dining-room 
is  the  most  notable.  There  Emerson  wrote  many 
of  his  best  poems,  and  there  the  "Mosses  from  an 
Old  Manse"  were  put  into  form  and  sent  out  to  de- 
light the  world.  From  its  northern  window,  it  is  said, 
the  wife  of  the  Rev.  William  Emerson  watched  the  fight 
on  Concord  Bridge.  It  is  but  a  stone's  tlirow  —  a  few 
steps  along  the  road,  a  sharp  turn  to  the  left,  and 
down  a  little  knoll  through  the  gloom  of  somber 
pines,  until,  under  two  ancient  elms  that  saw  the 
volleys  of  1775,  appear  the  river  and  the  bridge. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  the  people  of  Concord  are  in- 
different to  the  preservation  of  their  historic  places. 
Two  monuments  mark  the  battleground,  and  when 
the  old  bridge  became  unsafe  they  built  a  new  one  — 
an  exact  copy  of  the  old.  On  the  hither  side  of  the 
stream  is  a  plain  granite  shaft,  erected  in  1836,  bearing 
this  inscription  by  Emerson:  "Here  on  the  19th  of 
April,  1775,  was  made  the  first  forcible  resistance  to 
British  aggression.  On  the  opposite  bank  stood  the 
American  militia,  and  on  this  spot  the  first  of  the 
enemy  fell  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  which  gave 
independence  to  these  United  States.  In  gratitude  to 
God,  and  in  the  love  of  freedom,  this  monument  was 
erected  A.D.  1836."     But  after  many  years  it  was  per- 


16  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

ceived  by  the  people  of  Concord  that  to  commemorate 
with  monuments  the  spot  where  your  enemy  fell,  and 
leave  unmarked  the  ground  where  your  patriot  fore- 
fathers bled,  was  neither  appropriate  nor  patriotic,  and 
Mr.  D.  C.  French,  a  young  sculptor  of  the  town,  was 
commissioned  to  design  a  bronze  statue  to  commemorate 
the  minute-men's  stand  for  liberty.  Few  statues  of 
historic  meaning  are  so  simple  and  appropriate.  The 
central  idea  is  the  minute-man  in  toil-stained  attire, 
with  ancient  flintlock  firmly  grasped.  The  stern,  tense 
visage  of  the  man  is  admirably  shown.  The  figure 
leans  upon  an  old-fashioned  plow,  and  stands  on  a 
simple  granite  base,  on  which  are  chiseled  Emerson's 
well-known  lines: 

"  By  the  rude  bridge  that  arched  the  flood, 
Their  flag  to  April's  sun  unfuried, 
Here  once  the  embattled  farmers  stood. 
And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world." 

The  two  British  soldiers  left  dead  on  the  ground 
were  buried  on  the  afternoon  of  the  Concord  fight,  by 
the  stone  wall  near  by.  The  grave  is  now  protected 
by  a  railing,  and  marked  by  the  inscription,  "  Grave 
of  British  soldiers,"  on  a  stone  in  the  wall  above  it. 

Except  the  Old  Manse,  the  houses  of  literary  in- 
terest are  all  on  the  other  side  of  the  town.  If  from  the 
village  green  one  strolls  down  the  Lexington  road,  a 
leisurely  walk  of  five  minutes  will  bring  him  to  a  fork 
in  the  road,   facing  which,   on  the  right,  is  a  plain, 


Concord  Memories  17 

square  country  house,  painted  white,  with  the  tradi- 
tional picket  fence  in  front,  and  sundry  pines  and 
maples  bending  protectingly  over  its  square  roofs.  A 
drive  leads  through  the  road  to  a  yellow  barn  in  the 
rear,  and  flanking  this  is  a  garden  of  half  an  acre,  in 
which,  in  their  season,  roses  and  a  rare  collection  of 
hollyhocks  may  be  found.  This  was  for  many  years 
the  home  of  Emerson.  It  has  received  and  entertained 
the  notables  of  two  generations. 

The  left  branch  of  the  fork  —  the  old  Boston  Road 
—  leads  in  an  eighth  of  a  mile  to  Wayside,  the  former 
home  of  Hawthorne.  The  house  pleases  the  esthetic 
taste  rather  more  than  that  of  the  philosopher.  It  is 
nestled  under  one  of  the  sharp  spurs  that  define  the 
Concord  Valley,  and  deep  groves  of  pines  on  the  hill- 
side and  at  its  base  contrast  prettily  with  the  green  of 
the  lawn  and  the  neutral  tints  of  the  cottage.  The 
house  was  later  occupied  by  George  P.  Lathrop, 
the  son-in-law  of  Hawthorne.  The  Orchard  House,  the 
former  home  of  the  Alcott  family,  adjoined  Wayside 
on  the  north.  Mr.  Alcott  removed  from  it  as  the  in- 
firmities of  age  came  on,  and  resided  in  the  village  with 
a  widowed  daughter,  Mrs.  Pratt.  In  the  winter  Miss 
Louisa  M.  Alcott  also  made  her  home  with  them.  In 
the  same  yard  with  the  Alcott  house  stood  a  little,  vine- 
wreathed  chapel,  in  which  the  lectures  and  discussions 
of  the  School  of  Philosophy  were  held. 

The  only  house  in  Concord  that  can  be  said  to  have 


18  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

been  distinctively  Thoreau's  home  was  the  Httle  shed 
on  a  sand  bar  of  Walden  Pond,  which  he  built  as  a 
protest  against  the  follies  and  complex  wants  of  society. 
This  house  contained  one  room  ten  feet  wide  by  fifteen 
long,  a  closet,  a  window,  two  trap-doors,  and  a  brick 
chimney  at  one  end.  Its  timbers  were  grown  on  the 
spot,  the  boards  for  its  covering  were  procured  from 
the  deserted  shanty  of  a  railway  laborer,  and  the  whole 
cost  of  the  structure  did  not  exceed  $30.  In  this  house, 
through  the  most  inclement  season  of  the  year  —  from 
July  to  May  —  the  philosopher  lived  at  an  expense  of 
$8.76  —  a  striking  reproof  of  modern  folly  and  extrava- 
gance. The  house  on  the  Virginia  road  where  Thoreau 
was  born  was  standing  in  1883,  and  the  house  where 
he  died  was  later  the  residence  of  the  Alcotts. 

Perhaps  the  tourist  will  derive  his  most  novel  and 
permanent  impressions  of  Concord  from  the  cemeteries. 
The  Hill  Burying-ground,  rising  directly  from  the  town 
square,  is  the  most  ancient,  its  oldest  stone  bearing 
date  of  1677.  Major  John  Buttrick,  who  commanded 
the  patriots  at  the  bridge,  and  the  Rev.  William  Emer- 
son, who  by  example  advocated  resistance  to  tyrants 
that  morning,  are  interred  here;  and  here  Pitcairn 
stood  to  watch  the  fight  and  direct  the  movements  of 
his  troops.  No  other  yard,  I  think,  can  furnish  such 
novel  and  distinctive  epitaphs.  There  is  one,  for  in- 
stance, which  shows  when  white  marble,  emblematic 
of  purity,  first  began  to  be  used  for  memorials,  the 


Concord  Memories  19 

favorite  material  before  that  having  been  red  sand- 
stone.    Here  is  the  inscription: 

"This  stone  is  designed  by  its  durability  to  per- 
petuate the  memory,  and  by  its  color  to  signify  the 
moral  character,  of  Miss  Abigail  Dudley,  who  died 
January  4,  1812,  aged  73." 

The  epitaph  to  John  Jack,  an  aged  slave  who  died 
in  1773,  is  said  to  have  been  written  by  the  Rev.  Daniel 
Bliss,  a  former  minister  of  Concord: 

"God  wills  us  free;  man  wills  us  slaves.  I  will  as 
God  wills;  God's  will  be  done.  Here  lies  the  body  of 
John  Jack,  a  native  of  Africa,  who  died  March,  1773, 
aged  about  sixty  years.  Though  born  in  a  land  of 
slavery,  he  was  born  free.  Though  he  lived  in  a  land 
of  liberty,  he  lived  a  slave;  till  by  his  honest  though 
stolen  labors  he  acquired  the  source  of  slavery,  which 
gave  him  his  freedom.  Though  not  long  before 
death,  the  grand  tyrant,  gave  him  his  final  emancipa- 
tion, and  put  liim  on  a  footing  with  kings.  Though  a 
slave  to  vice,  he  practised  those  virtues  without  which 
kings  are  but  slaves." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  charming 
resting-place  than  Sleepy-Hollow  Cemetery,  Concord's 
modern  place  of  interment.  Originally  it  was  a  natural 
park  of  liill  and  dale,  shaded  by  forest  trees,  with  a 
beautiful  hollow  of  perhaps  an  acre  in  extent  in  the 
center.  The  grounds  were  laid  out  in  1855,  art  being 
content  to  adorn  rather  than  change   nature's  plan. 


20  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Most  of  Concord's  famous  dead  are  buried  here. 
Hawthorne,  Thoreau,  and  Emerson  lie  on  the  same 
ridge,  and  almost  in  adjoining  plots.  Ascending  the 
Ridge  Path  from  the  west,  Thoreau's  grave  is  seen  on 
the  brow  of  the  ridge,  beneath  a  group  of  tall  pines. 
The  lot  is  unenclosed.  A  brown-stone  slab  marks  the 
author's  grave;  the  grave  of  his  brother  John,  a  youth 
of  great  promise,  is  close  beside,  and  those  of  his  father, 
mother,  and  two  sisters  share  the  lot.  "May  my  life 
be  not  destitute  of  its  Indian  summer,"  Thoreau  once 
prayed,  and  one  learns  from  the  stone  that  he  was  cut 
down  before  the  summer  had  fairly  come  to  him. 

Hawthorne's  tomb  is  but  a  few  steps  away,  covered 
with  myrtle,  and  marked  by  two  small  stones,  one  at 
the  foot  and  one  at  the  head.  There  are  but  two 
other  graves  in  the  plot  —  those  of  his  grandchildren, 
Francis  H.  and  Gladys  H.  Lathrop. 

Emerson  was  laid  on  the  same  hill  summit,  a  short 
distance  south. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AUTUMN    DAYS    IN    QUINCY,    1883 

THE  illustrated  magazines  in  their  wide  search 
for  topics  seem  to  have  missed  Quincy  —  most 
prolific  in  subjects  for  both  pen  and  pencil.  The  town 
is  almost  in  sight  of  Boston,  but  seven  miles  away,  with 
its  granite  quarries  and  manufactories,  a  town  of  to- 
day; but  in  its  ancient  churchyards  and  fine  old  man- 
sions hidden  in  the  suburbs  a  wealth  of  interesting 
historical  material  lies  buried.  Take,  for  instance,  the 
ancient  mansion  of  the  Quincys,  a  half-mile  north  of 
the  village,  on  the  old  road  opened  to  connect  Plymouth 
Colony  with  Massachusetts  Bay,  one  of  the  first  high- 
ways of  the  nation.  The  house  stands  in  a  sunny 
hollow  on  the  banks  of  a  little  brook  that  enters,  a  short 
distance  beyond,  an  arm  of  the  sea.  Looking  on  it 
from  the  street  between  two  fine  old  English  lindens 
that  grace  the  entrance  and  rows  of  elms  beyond,  one 
can  but  consider  it  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of 
colonial  domestic  architecture  extant  —  an  impression 
which  the  interior,  with  its  broad  hall  and  gently 
ascending  staircase,  with  carved  balustrade,  the  wide 
but  low-studded  rooms,  with  their  ancient  furniture 


22  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  relics,  heightens  rather  than  diminishes.  Its  occu- 
pant, when  we  visited  it,  Mr.  Peter  Butler,  had  made  a 
study  of  the  history  of  his  dwelling,  and  placed  the  date 
of  the  erection  of  its  earlier  portion  in  1635,  on  the 
authority  of  the  venerable  Josiah  Quincy,  President 
of  Harvard  College,  who  died  in  1864,  aged  ninety-six, 
and  of  his  son,  the  late  Edmund  Quincy  of  Dedham, 
an  accomplished  antiquary.  Its  builder  was  that 
Edmund  Quincy  who  came  to  Boston  in  1633  with 
John  Cotton,  and  became  the  ancestor  of  the  Quincys 
who  later  figured  so  prominently  in  the  history  of  their 
country.  He  died  in  1637,  shortly  after  the  allotment 
of  a  large  tract  of  land  in  Braintree,  now  Quincy,  had 
been  made  him.  His  son  Edmund  enlarged  the  origi- 
nal structure,  and  lived  in  it  to  a  green  old  age,  dying 
in  January,  1698.  He  too  was  a  notable  citizen,  repre- 
senting his  town  many  times  in  the  General  Court, 
acting  as  magistrate,  and  serving  as  lieutenant-colonel 
of  the  Suffolk  regiment.  "A  true  New  England  man," 
said  Judge  Sewall  of  him,  in  his  diary,  "and  one 
of  our  best  friends " ;  while  another  writer  pictures 
him  as  reproducing  "the  type  of  the  English  country 
gentleman  in  New  England." 

It  is  in  the  famous  diary  of  Judge  Sewall,  under  date 
of  1712,  that  we  find  the  first  printed  mention  of  the 
old  house.  He  is  noting  a  journey  from  Plymouth 
(where  he  had  been  holding  court)  to  Boston,  made  in 
March   of   that   year,    and    proceeds:    "Rained    hard 


Autumn  Days  in  Quincy  23 

quickly  after  setting  out;  went  by  Mattakeese  meeting- 
house, and  forded  over  the  North  River.  My  Horse 
stumbled  in  the  considerable  body  of  water,  but  I  made 
a  shift,  by  God's  Help,  to  set  him,  and  he  recovered 
and  carried  me  out.  Rained  very  hard  and  we  went 
into  a  barn  awhile.  Baited  at  Bainsto's,  dined  at 
Cushing's,  dried  my  coat  and  hat  at  both  places.  By 
that  time  got  to  Braintry;  the  day  and  I  were  in  a 
manner  spent,  and  I  turned  into  Cousin  Quinsey.  .  .  . 
Lodged  in  the  chamber  next  the  Brooke."  A  pleasing 
glimpse  of  the  "free-hearted  hospitality"  of  that  day 
this  little  extract  affords;  "the  Brooke"  is  still  there, 
and  the  chamber  too,  but  little  changed  in  general 
appearance  since  the  distinguished  guest  left  it.  Judge 
Sewall's  chamber  was  a  corner  room,  with  an  outlook 
on  both  the  turnpike  and  across  the  brook  over  the 
fields  on  the  north.  The  adjoining  room  is  still  known 
as  "  Flynt's  chamber,"  and  the  room  beneath,  connected 
with  it  by  a  narrow,  winding  stair,  as  "  Flynt's  study," 
from  a  former  occupant,  Henry  Flynt,  known  to  his 
contemporaries  as  "Tutor  Flynt,"  from  his  having 
filled  the  office  of  tutor  at  Harvard  College  for  fifty- 
five  years.  His  father  was  the  Rev.  Henry  Flynt  of 
Dorchester,  and  his  sister  Dorothy  married  Judge 
Edmund  Quincy,  and  became  the  ancestress  of  a  long 
line  of  noble  sons  and  daughters. 

There   was   a   personality   about  Tutor   Flynt  that 
caused  him  to  figure  quite  prominently  in  the  diaries 


24  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  notes  of  the  men  of  his  day.  Judge  Sewall  relates 
an  adventure  that  occurred  to  the  tutor  and  himself 
while  they  were  journeying  from  Cambridge  to  Ports- 
mouth, Sewall  being  at  the  time  an  undergraduate. 
"After  dinner  we  passed  through  North  Hampton  to 
Greenland,  and  after  coming  to  a  small  rise  of  the 
road,  the  hills  on  the  north  side  of  Piscataqua  River 
appearing  in  view,  a  conversation  passed  between  us 
respecting  one  of  them,  which  he  said  was  Frost  Hill. 
I  said  it  was  Agamenticus,  a  large  hill  in  York.  We 
differed  in  opinion,  and  each  of  us  adhered  to  his  own 
idea  of  the  subject.  During  this  conversation,  while 
we  were  descending  gradually  at  a  moderate  pace,  and 
at  a  small  distance  from  Clark's  tavern,  the  ground 
being  a  little  sandy,  but  free  from  stones  or  obstruc- 
tions of  any  kind,  the  horse  somehow  stumbled  in  so 
sudden  a  manner,  the  boot  of  the  chair  being  loose  on 
Mr.  Flynt's  side,  as  to  throw  him  headlong  from  the 
carriage  into  the  road;  and  the  stoppage  being  so  sud- 
den, had  not  the  boot  been  fastened  on  my  side,  I 
might  probably  have  been  thrown  out  likewise.  The 
horse  sprang  up  quickly,  and  with  some  difficulty  I  so 
guided  the  chair  as  to  prevent  the  wheel  passing  over 
him,  when  I  halted  and  jumped  out,  being  apprehen- 
sive from  the  manner  in  which  the  old  gentleman  was 
thrown  out  it  must  have  broken  his  neck.  Several 
persons  at  the  tavern  noticed  the  occurrence,  and  im- 
mediately came  to  assist  Mr.  Flynt,  and  after  raising 


Autumn  Days  in  Quincy  25 

found  him  able  to  walk  to  the  house;  and  after  wash- 
ing his  face  and  head  with  some  water  found  the  skin 
rubbed  off  his  forehead  in  two  or  three  places,  to  which 
a  young  lady  .  .  .  applied  some  court  plaster.  After 
which  we  had  among  us  two  or  three  single  bowls  of 
lemon  punch  made  pretty  sweet,  with  which  we  re- 
freshed ourselves,  and  became  very  cheerful.  .  .  ,  I 
was  directed  to  pay  for  our  bowl  of  punch  and  the  oats 
our  horse  had  received,  after  which  we  proceeded  on 
towards  Portsmouth.  .  .  .  The  punch  we  had  par- 
taken of  was  pretty  well  charged  with  good  old  spirit, 
and  Mr.  Flynt  was  very  pleasant  and  sociable." 

This  interesting  character  died  in  1760  and  was 
buried  in  the  cemetery  at  Cambridge. 

Edmund  Quincy,  a  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Common 
Pleas,  inhabited  the  old  mansion  in  the  days  preceding 
the  Revolution.  His  daughter  Dorothy  was  the  belle 
of  Boston  society  in  those  days.  John  Hancock,  at 
one  time  a  resident  of  Quincy,  wooed  and  won  her  in 
tliis  very  house.  In  its  parlor  we  saw  the  quaint 
French  paper  placed  on  its  walls  in  honor  of  her  ap- 
proaching nuptials.  The  marriage  did  not  take  place 
here,  however,  but  in  Fairfield,  Conn.,  nearly  two  hun- 
dred miles  distant.  Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams,  as 
is  well  known,  early  became  the  special  objects  of 
British  vengeance.  They  were  in  hiding  in  Lexington 
at  the  time  Pitcairn  marched  against  the  town  (Mrs. 
Hancock  and  Miss  Quincy  being  also  in  the  village). 


26  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  escaped  to  a  neighboring  farm,  where  news  was 
brought  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  it  being  sup- 
posed then  that  their  capture  was  one  of  the  objects  of 
the  expedition.  After  the  melee  the  four  drove  in  a 
carriage  down  through  Connecticut  to  the  mansion  of 
Thaddeus  Burr,  in  Fairfield,  a  friend  of  Hancock's, 
where  the  ladies  spent  the  summer,  and  where,  in  the 
autumn,  on  Hancock's  return  from  presiding  over  the 
Continental  Congress,  the  lovers  were  married. 

A  few  years  after  the  Revolution  the  old  mansion 
passed  from  the  family,  being  purchased,  with  the 
twenty-five  acres  of  lawn  and  field  that  now  comprise 
the  estate,  by  a  gentleman  named  AUayne,  who  came 
to  Boston  from  Barbadoes,  where  his  family  held  large 
possessions.  He  was  probably  attracted  to  Quincy  by 
the  fame  of  the  old  mansion,  and  by  the  fact  that  here 
was  an  Episcopal  church  and  rector  —  one  of  the  very 
few  places  in  New  England  at  that  period  where  that 
church  had  gained  a  foothold.  Two  other  gentlemen 
resided  here  before  Mr.  Butler  came  into  possession, 
so  that  five  families  in  all  had  then  occupied  it. 

Among  the  furniture  were  two  chairs,  formerly  be- 
longing to  Governor  Hutchinson,  two  which  had 
held  the  portly  form  of  Governor  Bowdoin,  and  two 
brought  from  France  by  the  Huguenots  in  1686.  There 
was  also  a  gun,  picked  up  in  the  retreat  from  Lexington, 
bearing  the  initials  of  the  soldier  who  dropped  it,  either 
in  the  hurry  of  flight  or  at  the  command  of  death.     The 


,«.iiLM-: 


O 


O 


Autumn  Days  in  Quincy  27 

paper  on  the  parlor,  which,  as  we  have  remarked,  was 
placed  there  in  honor  of  the  approaching  marriage  of 
Dorothy  Quincy  to  John  Hancock,  had  some  features 
of  interest.  It  was  covered  with  quaint  designs  and 
was  laid  on  in  squares,  the  papermaker  of  that  day  not 
having  hit  on  the  device  of  winding  his  product  in  rolls. 
There  was  also  an  interesting  collection  of  Websteriana 
—  the  great  statesman's  wine-cooler,  some  of  his  silver- 
ware, two  snuff-boxes,  one  of  which  was  presented  by 
the  father  of  the  late  Sam  Ward,  a  shot-gun,  several 
portraits,  and  the  cane  presented  by  the  citizens  of 
Erie,  Pa.,  in  1837.  There  was  a  pewter  carving-dish 
that  belonged  to  an  earlier  age,  the  wine-cooler  of 
General  Gage,  and  the  punch-bowl  of  Governor  Eustis, 
last  used,  it  is  said,  when  it  was  filled  in  honor  of 
Lafayette.  There  was  here,  too,  the  secretary  of 
Governor  Hutchinson,  and  one  of  the  original  Franklin 
stoves.  In  the  library,  with  its  narrow,  winding  stair 
leading  up  to  "  Flynt's  study,"  stood  a  tall,  brass-faced 
clock  of  ancient  design,  an  oddity  in  clocks,  from 
having  but  a  single  hand,  the  hours  being  divided  into 
sections  of  seven  and  a  half  minutes  each. 

Several  autograph  letters  of  John  and  John  Quincy 
Adams  remind  us  that  we  are  but  a  few  steps  from  the 
old  Adams  family  mansion,  which  might  be  seen  across 
the  meadows  on  the  west  but  for  the  trees.  From  the 
Quincy  mansion  we  paid  it  a  visit,  turning  the  corner, 
then  up  a  side  street,  across  the  deep  cut  of  the  railway, 


28  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

just  beyond  which  we  reached  it:  a  fine  old  double 
house,  set  in  a  pretty  park,  with  a  long  piazza  in  front, 
two  entrances  and  halls,  and  on  the  west  a  detached, 
vine-covered  brick  structure  —  the  library.  It  had 
sheltered  two  Presidents  and  their  families,  and  was 
for  years  the  home  of  Charles  Francis  Adams,  We 
were  admitted  to  the  parlor,  as  a  special  favor,  and 
shown  the  fine  portraits  of  John  Adams  and  his  wife 
Abigail,  by  Stuart,  and  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  by 
Copley,  and  to  the  dining-room,  where  hung  the  por- 
traits of  George  II.  and  his  Queen,  by  Savage.  Then 
we  went  out  along  the  piazza  to  the  entrance  on  the 
west,  and  on  the  left  entered  the  "Mahogany  Room," 
the  favorite  apartment  of  the  Presidents;  so  called 
because  it  is  finished  in  panels  of  solid  mahogany. 
The  old  mansion,  we  learned,  was  built  seventy-five 
years  before  President  John  Adams  bought  it,  by  a 
famous  West  India  merchant  of  Boston,  who,  having 
a  large  importation  of  mahogany  in  stock,  utilized  it 
in  the  rich  and  solid  decoration  of  one  room  of  his 
mansion.  The  library  of  the  Presidents,  where  much 
of  their  literary  work  was  done,  was  in  this  wing,  but 
as  rare  and  valuable  books  and  manuscripts  accumu- 
lated, the  risk  of  retaining  them  in  the  main  building 
was  deemed  too  great,  and  some  years  ago  the  brick 
fire-proof  structure  which  we  have  mentioned  was 
erected  by  the  late  occupant  for  their  safe  keeping. 


CHAPTER  V 

BROOK   FARM   IN    1881 

TNTEREST  in  the  bright  young  spirits  that  con- 
-*■  stituted  the  Brook  Farm  Phalanx  drew  me  out  one 
May  day  to  the  scene  of  their  experiment.  After  a 
seven-mile  ride  by  train  we  were  set  down  at  the  pretty 
rural  suburb  of  West  Roxbury,  somewhat  noteworthy 
as  being  the  first  pastoral  charge  of  Theodore  Parker. 
The  farm  lies  on  the  bank  of  the  Charles  River,  about 
a  mile  north  of  the  station,  and  is  reached  by  a  country 
road  that  goes  straight  forward  for  the  first  three 
quarters  of  a  mile,  then  w^nds  up  and  around  a  small 
hill,  bends  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Charles  again, 
crosses  a  small  brook  by  a  rustic  bridge,  and  then  turns 
directly  by  the  main  buildings  of  the  farm.  One  can 
but  be  charmed  with  its  location.  The  larger  part  of 
it  lies  in  the  sunny  intervale  of  a  little  brook  that  flows 
westward  into  the  Charles,  but  the  boundary  line  also 
includes  a  series  of  knolls  and  foothills  that  rise  on  the 
brook's  northern  border,  and  crowning  these  hills  is  a 
dense  wood  of  cedar,  hemlock,  chestnut,  and  other 
forest  trees.  The  Charles  flows  a  few  yards  from  its 
western    boundary.     In    a    little    brown    cottage,    just 


30  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

across  the  way,  lives  George  Bradford,  an  aged  Eng- 
lishman, who  was  once  in  charge  of  the  farm,  and  who 
readily  consented  to  act  as  our  guide.  The  present 
estate  is  far  from  being  the  Blithedale  of  Hawthorne  or 
the  Brook  Farm  of  Ripley  and  his  associates.  Prob- 
ably there  is  not  another  farm  in  New  England  that 
has  undergone  such  mutations  as  this  in  the  brief 
period  of  thirty  years.  The  Phalanx  had  pretty  fully 
dispersed  in  the  summer  of  1848.  For  some  time  after 
their  departure  the  estate  was  used  by  the  city  of  Rox- 
bury  for  a  poor-farm.  Then  it  was  purchased  by 
James  Freeman  Clarke,  with  the  design,  it  was  said, 
of  building  houses  upon  it  and  making  it  a  suburb  of 
the  city.  This  design,  however,  if  entertained,  was 
never  carried  out.  When  the  civil  war  broke  out  the 
farm  became  a  camp  for  the  volunteer  soldiers  of 
Massachusetts,  and  the  tramp  of  armed  men  was  heard 
in  the  former  abode  of  dreamers.  Later  it  was  pur- 
chased by  a  Mr.  Burckhardt,  its  present  owner,  for 
the  site  and  endowment  of  an  orphan  asylum.  In  the 
course  of  these  mutations  all  the  buildings  erected  by 
the  Phalanx,  except  one,  have  disappeared,  and  the 
whole  aspect  of  the  farm  has  been  changed. 

We  entered  the  grounds  by  the  main,  or  east  entrance. 
From  the  gate  a  carriage  way  winds  west,  in  and  out 
among  the  knolls,  having  the  brook  and  the  intervale 
on  the  south.  Just  here,  on  a  pretty  green  plateau, 
sheltered  by  an  old  cottonwood  tree,  stood  the  main 


Brook  Farm  in  1881  31 

building,  known  to  all  familiar  with  the  literature  of 
the  farm  as  the  "Beehive."  It  was  an  old  two-story 
and  rustic  structure  of  wood,  with  nothing  particularly 
noticeable  about  its  outward  appearance.  In  1849, 
when  the  town  Committee  on  the  Poor-Farm  visited  it, 
it  contained  "on  the  first  floor  two  parlors,  one  large 
dining-room,  45  x  14,  with  closets,  a  kitchen  with  a 
Stimpson  range,  calculated  for  from  sixty  to  eighty 
persons,  and  containing  three  large  boilers,  a  wash- 
room, press-room,  store-room,  and  closets;  and  on  the 
second  floor,  two  large  chambers  with  fireplaces,  two 
bedrooms,  and  thirteen  sleeping-rooms,  with  several 
closets."  The  "hive"  was  destroyed  by  fire  long  ago, 
and  its  site  is  now  occupied  by  Mr.  Burckhardt's  orphan 
asylum.  Proceeding  west,  along  the  driveway,  the 
sites  of  the  former  communal  buildings  were  marked  by 
fire-blackened  ruins,  and  we  noticed  with  what  an  eye 
to  the  picturesque  they  had  been  selected.  First,  a  few 
yards  west  of  the  house  was  the  barn,  a  large  building, 
seventy  feet  by  forty,  with  an  addition  for  grain-rooms. 
Directly  above  it,  on  the  crest  of  the  hill,  stood  the 
Phalanstery,  or  Pilgrim  House,  whose  loss  by  fire 
almost  before  it  was  completed  so  seriously  crippled 
the  community.  The  "Eyry,"  also  quite  prominent 
in  the  literature  of  the  farm,  stood  still  further  north, 
almost  in  the  shadow  of  the  pine  forest.  Our  guide 
informed  us  in  his  gossipy  way  that  when  he  first  came 
here,  in  1849,  Charles  A.  Dana  and  his  wife  were  its 


32  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

occupants.  Most  interesting  of  all  to  us  was  Margaret 
Fuller's  cottage,  still  standing  on  the  crest  of  a  little 
hill,  in  the  midst  of  a  copse  of  cedars.  It  is  cruciform 
in  shape,  covered  with  wide  wooden  clapboards,  and 
is  now  the  dwelling  of  the  superintendent  of  the  estate 
and  his  family.  Our  guide  remarked  sotto  voce  that 
Miss  Fuller  received  $1,600  for  it  in  the  distribution  of 
the  property.  Just  beneath  the  cottage  windows,  in  a 
grassy  little  hollow  sheltered  on  every  side  by  woods 
and  hills,  were  the  flower  garden  and  hothouse  of  the 
association.  Bradford  expatiated  largely  on  the  beauty 
and  bloom  of  this  garden  in  its  palmy  days,  and  said 
that  until  within  a  year  or  two  the  country  people  were 
in  the  habit  of  resorting  hither  for  slips  of  the  Provence 
roses  that  still  lived  and  flourished  within  its  borders. 
It  is  only  a  patch  of  weed-covered  earth  now.  A  few 
yards  west,  in  the  deep  gloom  of  the  hemlocks,  is  a  little 
graveyard  where  several  members  of  the  community 
found  a  last  resting-place. 

On  the  summit  of  a  little  knoll  at  the  farthest  verge 
of  the  farm,  we  sat  down  and  tried  to  realize  that  this 
was  the  locality  made  classic  by  the  presence  of  Zenobia, 
Hollingsworth,  and  Priscilla;  that  here  the  bright 
young  prophets  of  a  new  social  era  sawed  and  planed 
in  the  workshops,  toiled  and  moiled  in  the  cornfields, 
that  a  new  idea  might  have  birth  and  a  chance  for  its 
life;  but  the  fire-blackened  ruins  and  bare  brown  hill- 
sides are  too  intensely  practical  for  any  play  of  feeling 


Brook  Farm  in  1881  33 

or  show  of  sentiment.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  none 
of  the  ready  writers  engaged  in  the  enterprise  has  ever 
given  the  world  an  authentic  account  of  the  movement 
in  its  inception  and  results.  Ripley  and  Dana,  the  two 
leading  spirits,  do  not  even  give  the  name  a  place  in 
their  great  cyclopedia.  Hawthorne,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, refers  to  this  omission  in  the  preface  to  his 
"Blithedale  Romance,"  and  gives  a  playful  challenge 
to  some  of  his  literary  confreres  there  to  step  forward 
and  fill  up  the  gap.  He  himself  gives  us  glimpses  in 
this  book  of  the  life  at  the  farm,  but  one  has  a  suspicion 
that  they  are  more  fictitious  than  real.  The  leaders 
have  always  evinced  a  great  reluctance  to  refer  to  the 
matter  in  any  way,  seemingly  regarding  it  as  a  freak 
of  youthful  folly  of  which  the  least  said  the  better.  The 
younger  members,  however  —  those  who  grew  up  from 
boyhood  to  manhood  on  the  farm,  of  whom  there  are 
several  in  this  city  —  show  no  such  reluctance,  and 
have  very  interesting  reminiscences  of  the  experiment 
to  relate.  One  of  these  gentlemen,  a  middle-aged 
business  man,  recently  favored  me  with  some  recollec- 
tions, of  which  I  give  a  synopsis. 

"The  Brook  Farm  experiment,"  he  began,  "was 
neither  socialistic  nor  communistic,  but  it  was  utilita- 
rian and  humanitarian.  A  Mutual  Aid  Society  would 
be  a  very  appropriate  name  for  it.  It  was  a  joint-stock 
corporation,  regularly  incorporated,  known  legally  as 
the  Brook  Farm  Phalanx.     Some  of  its  members  con- 


34  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

tributed  money,  some  labor  of  hand  or  brain ;  but  these 
last  were  required  to  toil  only  a  certain  number  of 
hours  each  day,  and  were  on  a  social  equality  with  the 
capitalists.  All  had  an  opportunity  for  study  and  social 
improvement  afforded  them.  There  was  a  division  of 
labor  among  us.  Some  taught  in  the  schools,  some 
wrought  in  the  workshops,  some  on  the  farm.  The 
school  of  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ripley  were  the  directors 
was  the  most  successful  department.  It  gained  quite 
a  wide  reputation,  and  numbered  among  its  pupils 
young  men  from  Manila,  Havana,  Florida,  and  Cam- 
bridge. There  were  classes  in  Greek,  German,  Italian, 
mental  and  moral  philosophy,  as  well  as  a  b  c  classes 
for  the  little  children.  Then  we  published  a  weekly 
newspaper  called  the  Harbinger,  which  attained  a 
higher  grade,  I  think,  than  any  American  journal  which 
had  preceded  it.  Ripley,  Dana,  and  Knight  were  the 
working  editors,  and  Channing,  Parker,  Otis,  Clapp, 
Cranch,  Curtis,  Duganne,  Godwin,  Greeley,  Higgin- 
son,  Lowell,  Story,  and  Whittier  contributors.  It  was 
the  legitimate  successor  of  three  other  publications  of 
like  character  —  the  Dial,  the  Present,  and  the  Phalanx 
—  and  after  the  failure  of  the  association  was  published 
for  a  time  at  New  York,  but  finally  died  of  inanition. 
We  paid  great  attention  to  social  life  and  development 
at  Brook  Farm.  The  finest  minds  and  most  genial 
hearts  were  attracted  to  it.  Beautiful  and  cultured 
women  added  their  gracious  presence,  too,  and  the  long 


Brook  Farm  in  1881  35 

winter  evenings  spent  around  the  glowing  fireside  of 
the  old  farmhouse  were  social  symposia  of  the  highest 
order.  We  read,  we  sang,  we  discussed  art,  literature, 
social  questions,  the  topics  of  the  day,  and  wove  glow- 
ing visions  of  the  coming  of  the  new  order  which  should 
cast  out  the  old.  Ripley  was  the  prince  among  us  both 
in  intellect  and  heart,  and  was  the  inspiration  of  the 
whole  movement.  Dana  was  the  business  manager, 
the  only  man  of  affairs  among  us.  Dwight  was  the 
teacher  and  preacher.  Emerson  and  Parker,  the  latter 
then  preaching  at  Roxbury,  often  looked  in  on  us  w^th 
words  of  sympathy  and  advice.  I  see  you  are  curious 
to  know  why  our  undertaking  failed.  Not  from  any 
inherent  weakness  in  the  principle  we  younger  men 
have  always  maintained,  but  from  extraneous  causes. 
Our  situation  was  ill-judged.  We  were  seven  miles 
from  Boston,  and  in  the  absence  of  railroads  our  sup- 
plies, coal  for  the  engine  and  products  of  farm  and 
workshops,  had  to  be  hauled  that  distance  in  wagons. 
Then  we  were  not  organized  systematically  and  suffered 
from  inexperience,  besides  meeting  with  sad  losses  by 
fire.  I  am  quite  sure  in  the  hands  of  practical  men  the 
experiment  could  be  tried  with  a  fair  measure  of  suc- 
cess." 


CHAPTER  VI 

A    VISIT   TO    PLYMOUTH,    1882 

"PLYMOUTH  derives  little  dignity  from  its  posi- 
■■■  tion,  being  planted  on  a  narrow  plateau  that  lies 
behind  the  sea,  and  a  range  of  steep  high  bluffs  that 
form  quite  a  feature  of  the  coast.  Its  chief  character- 
istics are  pretty  white  country  houses  embowered  in 
trees.  There  are  a  few  manufactories,  but  they  are  in 
the  outskirts,  and  give  little  hint  of  their  presence. 
Of  commerce  it  has  very  little,  Boston  having  long  ago 
absorbed  what  might  have  fallen  to  its  share,  and  it 
seems  to  have  accepted  quite  contentedly  its  position 
as  conservator  of  things  rare  and  ancient.  All  visitors 
to  Plymouth  are  perforce  pilgrims,  and  it  is  fortunate 
that  its  varied  objects  of  interest  —  Forefathers'  Rock, 
Pilgrim  Hall,  Burial  Hill,  and  the  National  Monument 
—  are  within  such  easy  distance  of  one  another. 

As  one  goes  down  Court  Street  from  the  railway 
station  under  fine  old  elms,  one  sees  on  the  left  an 
ornate  building  with  a  Doric  portico  and  much  the 
appearance  of  a  Grecian  temple  standing  somewhat 
back  from  the  village  street.  It  is  Pilgrim  Hall,  erected 
by  the  Pilgrim  Society  in  1824,  and  devoted  to  the 


A  Visit  to  Plymouth  37 

preservation  of  relics  of  the  forefathers.  It  also  par- 
takes of  the  character  of  a  general  museum.  In  its 
great  hall  one  finds  many  mementoes  of  a  historic  past. 
There  are  paintings  and  portraits  on  the  walls,  and  in 
cases  arranged  about  the  room  are  many  relics  of  the 
fathers  and  of  the  tribes  of  the  Old  Colony.  Of  the 
paintings,  the  most  noteworthy  is  Parker's  copy  of 
Weir's  great  picture  of  the  embarkation  in  the  rotunda 
of  the  Capitol  at  Washington.  Sargent's  large  paint- 
ing of  the  landing,  which  covers  nearly  the  whole  of 
the  east  wall,  is  barely  within  the  range  of  criticism, 
since  it  was  a  gift  from  the  artist.  Among  the  portraits, 
the  most  noteworthy  is  that  of  Edward  Winslow,  third 
Governor  of  the  colony,  and  one  of  the  immortal  forty- 
one  who  signed  the  compact  on  the  Mayflower.  It  is 
a  copy,  the  original  being  in  the  possession  of  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and  the  only  por- 
trait, it  is  said,  of  a  passenger  on  the  Mayflower  in 
existence.  Near  the  Governor's  portrait  is  a  noble 
face  —  that  of  his  son  Josiah,  the  first  native-born 
Governor  of  the  colony;  the  beautiful  Madonna-like 
face  beside  it  is  that  of  his  wife  Penelope.  A  stern, 
military  figure  in  uniform  is  their  grandson,  the  Major- 
General  John  Winslow  of  the  British  Army  to  whom 
was  entrusted  the  removal  of  the  French  Acadians 
from  their  homes.  All  of  these  worthies  except  Gov- 
ernor Edward  lie  buried  in  the  old  churchyard  at 
Marshfield,    near   the   grave   of   Daniel   Webster.     A 


38  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

striking  portrait  is  that  of  John  Alden,  grandson  of 
John  Alden  and  Priscilla.  The  face  of  Jonathan 
Trumbull,  the  famous  war  Governor  of  Connecticut, 
charms  one  by  its  air  of  stern  uprightness.  His  son 
John  Trumbull,  the  historical  painter,  is  also  portrayed 
here,  and  there  is  a  copy  of  an  original  portrait  of  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  painted  by  a  London  artist,  which 
was  formerly  the  property  of  President  Jefferson. 

The  glass  cases  ranged  about  the  room  attract  the 
greater  number  of  visitors.  They  contain  relics  of  the 
forefathers  and  mothers  far  too  precious  to  be  exposed 
to  the  dust  or  the  rapacity  of  the  curiosity-seeker. 
Those  relating  to  Miles  Standish  are  exceedingly  in- 
teresting. There  are  several  of  these  —  Holland  brick 
from  the  burned  ruins  of  his  house  in  Duxbury,  his 
great  pewter  platter  with  a  rim  at  least  four  inches  wide 
and  a  pit  of  proportionate  depth,  and  his  sword,  the 
trenchant  blade  that  again  and  again  saved  the  little 
colony  from  destruction.  There  are  traditions  that  it 
was  made  of  meteoric  stone  by  the  Persian  Magi,  and 
that  it  possessed  talismanic  virtues.  It  is  known  to 
be  of  Persian  manufacture,  and  was  no  doubt  won  from 
some  Spanish  hidalgo  by  the  Captain  in  his  wars  in 
the  low  countries.  On  the  blade  is  engraved  the  sun 
and  the  moon.  On  the  face  is  an  Arabic  inscription 
to  this  effect:  "With  peace  God  ruled  his  slaves,  and 
with  judgment  of  his  arm  he  gave  trouble  to  the  valiant 
of  the  mighty."     On  the  reverse  of  the  blade  are  two 


A  Visit  to  Plymouth  39 

other  inscriptions,  one  obscure,  the  other  meaning, 
"In  God  is  all  might."  We  have  in  this  case,  too,  a 
sampler  wrought  by  the  daughter  of  Miles  Standish,  a 
few  years  perhaps  before  her  death.  Into  the  cloth, 
below  the  intricate  maze  of  needlework,  is  stitched  this 
pious  stanza: 

"Lorea  Standish  is  my  name; 
Lord,  guide  my  heart  that  I  may  do  Thy  will; 
Also  fill  my  hands  with  such  convenient  skill 
As  may  conduce  to  virtue  void  of  shame; 
And  I  will  give  the  glory  to  Thy  name." 

The  Captain's  dinner-pot  has  been  relegated  to  the 
floor.  It  is  a  huge  afiFair,  with  a  jointed  bail  and 
capacious  stomach,  rather  insecurely  mounted  on  three 
rudimentary  legs.  In  one  corner,  under  the  great 
Sargent  picture,  is  the  arm-chair  of  Elder  Brewster, 
made  of  toughest  oak,  and  capacious  enough  for  the 
person  of  Von  Twiller  himself.  The  good  elder  must 
have  purchased  it  at  Leyden  or  Delfthaven,  for  it  never 
could  have  been  fashioned  for  an  Englishman.  In  the 
opposite  corner  is  a  model  of  that  famous  vessel,  the 
Mayflower.  Near  it  is  the  cradle  in  which  Peregrine 
White,  the  first  baby  born  to  the  colonists,  was  rocked. 
There  is  the  halberd  of  John  Alden  —  a  murderous 
weapon,  with  a  long  oaken  staff  —  his  Bible,  a  deed 
acknowledged  before  him  in  1653,  an  original  letter 
from  King  Philip,  the  first  Plymouth  patent,  dated 
1621,  the  oldest  State  paper  in  the  United  States,  and 


40  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

scores  of  other  relics  intimately  connected  with  the 
early  settlers.  One  of  the  most  interesting  bits  of  the 
collection  escapes  the  attention  of  the  ordinary  visitor. 
It  may  be  found  in  one  of  the  cases  on  the  north  side, 
and  is  the  original  copy  of  Bryant's  tribute  to  the 
Pilgrims — "The  Twenty-second  of  December."  A 
companion  piece  is  the  first  draft  of  Mrs.  Hemans'  well- 
known  hymn  to  the  Pilgrims.  An  autograph  poem 
on  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  by  Ebenezer  Elliot,  the  corn-law 
rhymer,  completes  the  collection,  wliich  was  given  to 
the  Pilgrim  Society  in  1880  by  James  T.  Fields. 

Passing  out  of  the  historic  building,  we  see  near  the 
right-hand  corner  an  iron  fence,  elliptical  in  form,  en- 
closing a  chastely  cut  granite  pillar,  erected  to  the 
memory  of  the  signers  of  the  famous  compact.  Their 
names  inscribed  on  scrolls  attached  to  the  railing  en- 
circle the  stone.  Going  south  from  Pilgrim  Hall  a 
few  blocks,  one  comes  to  a  large  and  handsome  build- 
ing, situated  so  far  back  from  the  street  that  there  is 
room  for  a  pretty  park  between.  This  is  the  County 
Court-house,  erected  in  1820  and  remodeled  in  1857. 
There  are  two  entrances,  one  on  the  north,  the  other 
on  the  south.  If  one  enters  on  the  south  and  passes 
through  a  long  corridor  to  the  further  end,  he  will  have 
on  his  left  the  office  of  the  Register  of  Deeds.  In  this 
room,  under  the  care  of  Mr.  William  S.  Danforth, 
Secretary  of  the  Pilgrim  Society,  is  preserved  one  of  the 
oldest,  most  complete  and  extensive  collections  of  legal 


A  Visit  to  Plymouth  41 

and  State  papers  in  the  land.  They  comprise  the 
earliest  records  of  Plymouth  Colony,  its  laws,  the  allot- 
ment of  lands,  the  original  plan  of  the  town,  the  records 
of  the  first  church,  the  deeds,  mortgages,  and  wills  of 
the  men  famous  in  history.  One  easily  fixes  upon  the 
original  patent  of  the  colony  granted  by  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  in  1629  as  the  most  interesting.  It  is  kept 
in  the  original  box  in  which  it  came  from  England,  and 
still  retains  the  great  wax  seal  which  gave  it  validity. 
Of  almost  equal  interest  is  the  first  order  for  trial  by 
jury,  in  the  quaint  handwriting  of  Governor  Bradford. 
Here,  too,  is  the  will  of  Standish,  with  his  autograph 
attached,  the  order  for  the  first  customs  law,  the  order 
dividing  the  cattle  into  lots,  one  cow  being  divided  into 
thirteen  lots,  that  is,  her  milk  was  distributed  among 
thirteen  families. 

The  chief  object  for  all  pilgrims  is,  of  course.  Fore- 
fathers' Rock.  To  reach  it  from  the  Court-house,  one 
follows  the  main  street  a  short  distance  south  to  Shirley 
Square.  From  tliis  point  a  narrow  side-street,  the 
original  Leyden  Street  of  the  Pilgrims,  leads  down  to 
the  docks  and  shipping.  Here,  near  the  water's  edge, 
amid  the  din  and  stir  of  traffic,  one  finds  the  historic 
stone.  Probably  the  first  feeling  of  all  visitors  is  one  of 
disappointment.  There  is  no  stormy  and  rock-bound 
coast,  as  one  has  been  led  to  expect,  but  a  low,  sandy 
shore,  a  natural  landing-place.  The  rock  itself  is  not 
a  part  of  some  huge  cliff,  but  a  boulder  brought  down 


42  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

by  the  glaciers  and  deposited  here  to  form  the  stepping- 
stone  of  a  new  empire.  A  granite  canopy,  designed  by 
Billings  and  erected  by  the  Pilgrim  Society,  covers  it, 
and  adds  still  more  to  the  incongruity  of  its  surround- 
ings. Cole's  Hill,  a  little  bluff  overtopping  the  rock,  is 
also  vastly  changed  since  Master  Coppin  used  it  as  a 
landmark  in  guiding  the  Pilgrim  shallop  to  land.  This 
hill  was  the  first  burial-ground  of  the  Pilgrims,  it  will 
be  remembered,  nearly  half  the  whole  ship's  company 
having  been  laid  here  ere  the  first  year  had  passed,  and 
their  graves  sown  over  with  wheat,  that  the  Indians 
might  not  discover  the  weakness  of  the  colony.  The 
hill  now  is  turfed,  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  and 
granite  steps  lead  down  its  side  to  the  rock.  We  found 
Burial  Hill,  overlooking  the  central  part  of  the  village, 
exceedingly  interesting.  Here  stood  the  earliest  church, 
and  here  still  rests  the  dust  of  the  forefathers. 

The  churchyard  is  quite  populous;  there  are  more 
inhabitants  here  than  in  the  village  below.  The  tomb- 
stones are  in  a  great  variety  of  form  and  material, 
though  the  dark  slate  of  England  and  the  marble  and 
granite  of  our  own  country  predominate.  The  earlier 
headstones  were  brought  from  England  before  there 
was  any  stonecutter  in  the  colony,  and  bear  the  winged 
cherub  above  the  inscription,  with  much  curious 
tracery  on  the  sides.  The  oldest  stone  now  standing  is 
one  erected  to  the  memory  of  Edward  Gray,  a  merchant 
who  died  in  1681,     A  stone  to  William  Crowe,  near  the 


A  Visit  to  Plymouth  43 

head  of  the  path,  bears  date  1683-4.  There  is  one  to 
Thomas  Clark,  said  to  have  been  mate  of  the  May- 
flower, erected  in  1697;  one  to  Mrs.  Hannah  Clark, 
1687;  one  to  John  Cotton,  1699;  these  being  all  the 
original  stones  of  the  seventeenth  century  that  remain. 
Too  many  of  those  that  rest  here  sleep  in  obscurity. 
Not  any  of  the  one  hundred  and  two  souls  of  the 
Mayflower  have  their  graves  surely  designated  by  the 
customary  hie  jacet,  nor  any  of  those  who  followed 
in  the  ship  Fortune  in  1621,  save  one  —  Thomas  Cush- 
man;  and  of  those  who  came  in  the  Ann  and  Little 
James,  in  1623,  only  one  —  Thomas  Clark  —  is  re- 
membered by  any  form  of  memorial.  Tradition,  how- 
ever, has  pointed  out  the  places  of  sepulture  of  some 
of  them,  and  on  these  spots  their  descendants  have 
erected  suitable  monuments.  Two  attract  the  eye  at 
once  by  their  stateliness  —  the  shaft  in  memory  of 
William  Bradford,  the  first  Governor  of  Plymouth 
Colony  and  its  faithful  chronicler,  and  that  erected  by 
filial  piety  to  the  memory  of  Elder  Robert. 

The  view  from  the  summit  of  the  hill  is  beautiful  in 
the  extreme.  The  village  lies  at  your  feet;  before  you 
the  circle  of  Plymouth  Bay  rounds  north  and  south,  its 
northern  headland  being  Captain's  Hill,  with  the  Stan- 
dish  monument  crowning  its  peak,  and  its  southern 
the  bold  bluffs  of  Manomet.  It  was  interesting  to 
look  into  the  modern  town  and  compare  it  with  De 
Rasiere's  description  of  1627: 


44  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

"The  houses,"  he  observes,  "are  constructed  of  hewn 
planks  with  gardens  also  enclosed  behind  and  at  the 
sides,  so  that  their  houses  and  courtyards  are  arranged 
in  very  good  order  with  a  stockade  against  a  sudden 
attack.  At  the  ends  of  the  street  there  are  three 
wooden  gates.  In  the  center,  on  a  cross  street,  stands 
the  Governor's  house,  before  which  is  a  square  en- 
closure, upon  which  four  pateros  are  mounted  so  as  to 
flank  along  the  street.  .  .  .  Upon  the  hill  they  have  a 
large  square  house  with  a  flat  roof.  .  .  .  The  lower 
part  they  use  for  their  church,  where  they  preach  on 
Sundays  and  the  usual  holidays.  They  assemble  by 
beat  of  drum,  each  with  his  musket  or  firelock,  in  front 
of  the  Captain's  door;  they  have  their  cloaks  on  and 
place  themselves  in  order  there  abreast,  and  are  led 
by  a  sergeant  without  beat  of  drum.  Behind  comes 
the  Governor  in  a  long  robe,  beside  on  the  right  hand 
comes  the  preacher  with  his  cloak  on,  and  on  the  left 
hand  the  Captain  with  his  side  arms  and  cloak  on  and 
with  a  small  cane  in  his  hand;  and  so  they  march  in 
good  order,  and  each  gets  his  arms  down  near  him. 
Thus  they  are  constantly  on  their  guard  night  and 
day." 

I  have  before  spoken  of  the  range  of  hills  that  en- 
circles the  village.  On  the  highest  of  these  the  Pilgrim 
Society,  with  the  aid  of  contributions  from  the  nation 
at  large,  has  erected  a  monument  to  the  memory  of  the 
Forefathers.     There  is  so  much  of  the  crude  and  incon- 


A  Visit  to  Plymouth  45 

gruous  in  American  sculpture  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be 
able  to  commend  this  memorial.  It  is  partly  at  least 
in  accord  with  the  genius  of  the  place,  and  fitly  presents 
the  character  and  work  of  the  men  it  is  intended  to 
commemorate.  The  material  is  Maine  granite.  The 
general  design  is  that  of  an  octagon  pedestal  forty-five 
feet  high,  on  which  stands  a  colossal  statue  of  Faith. 
Four  subordinate  figures  on  buttresses  projecting  from 
the  pedestal  represent  Morality,  Education,  Law,  and 
Liberty.  Beneath  these  in  alto-relief  are  represented 
the  departure,  the  signing  of  the  compact,  the  landing, 
and  the  first  treaty  with  the  Indians.  There  are  four 
panels  on  the  four  faces  of  the  main  pedestal,  one  on 
the  front  having  the  inscription  of  the  monument,  and 
those  on  the  right  and  left  the  names  of  the  passengers 
of  the  May-flower.  The  fourth  panel  awaits  an  inscrip- 
tion. The  pedestal  was  placed  in  position  in  the 
summer  of  1876.  The  statue  of  Faith  is  the  gift  of 
Oliver  Ames,  a  native  of  Plymouth,  and  was  put  in 
place  in  1877.  But  one  of  the  smaller  statues  —  that 
of  Morality  —  is  now  in  position.  It  was  the  gift  of 
the  State  of  Massachusetts.  The  alto-relief  beneath 
it  was  the  contribution  of  Connecticut.  The  statue  of 
Education  is  completed,  with  its  companion  alto-relief, 
both  being  the  gift  of  Mr.  Rowland  Mather,  of  Hart- 
ford, Conn.  The  two  other  statues.  Law  and  Liberty, 
are  yet  unprovided  for,  and  await  the  contributions  of 
those  who  honor  the  memory  of  the  Pilgrims. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A    DAY    AT    GREEN    HARBOR,    1882 

TRAVELING  Bostonward  from  historic  Ply- 
mouth by  the  Old  Colony  Line,  we  were  set 
down  in  twenty  minutes  at  Webster  Place,  the  nearest 
railway-point  to  Green  Harbor,  the  former  home  of 
Daniel  Webster.  The  Place  was  only  a  flag-station, 
and  its  sole  building  a  shed  that  served  as  a  waiting- 
room  for  passengers.  In  answer  to  our  inquiry  for  the 
Webster  farm,  the  boy  who  acted  as  station-master 
pointed  out  a  broad,  dusty  highway  leading  eastward 
through  the  wood,  and  told  us  we  were  to  go  up  that  a 
mile  until  it  forked  by  a  schoolhouse,  and  that  then 
half  a  mile  by  the  left  fork  would  bring  us  to  the  farm. 
The  country  is  level  here,  and  as  we  emerged  from  the 
forest  upon  cultivated  fields  we  saw  across  them  the 
blue  line  of  the  ocean.  We  easily  found  the  fork  in 
the  road,  and  the  schoolhouse,  and  were  shown,  on 
the  corner  directly  opposite,  the  quaint,  mossy,  low- 
roofed  house  that  once  sheltered  Governor  Josiah 
Winslow  of  the  Plymouth  Colony.  Leaving  this  relic, 
we  followed  a  beautiful  country  road  through  the  farms 
between  several  neatly  painted  farmhouses,  and  past 


A  Day  at  Green  Harbor  47 

the  pretty  country-seat  of  Adelaide  Phillips,  the  singer, 
to  the  smoothly  laid  walls  and  well-kept  fields  of  the 
Webster  estate.  The  old  family  mansion,  burned  in 
1878,  stood  some  distance  back  from  the  street,  on  a 
little  knoll,  in  the  midst  of  a  park  of  thirty  acres,  well 
shaded  by  forest  trees.  It  was  a  long,  low,  rambling 
structure  of  the  colonial  era,  and  had  achieved  a  his- 
tory before  Webster  bought  it,  having  been  occupied 
by  the  British  troops  in  the  Revolution,  at  which  time 
it  was  the  scene  of  some  rather  tragic  incidents.  But 
a  fatality  attends  American  historic  houses,  and  this 
structure,  dear  to  all  Americans  from  Webster's  con- 
nection with  it,  was  burned  to  the  ground  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  14th  of  February,  1878,  and  with  it  nearly  all 
the  objects  of  interest  and  art  that  had  been  gathered 
by  its  former  owner.  The  mistress  of  the  estate,  Mrs. 
Fletcher  Webster,  rebuilt,  on  the  former  site,  but  with 
no  attempt  to  reproduce  the  farmhouse  of  her  ances- 
tor's day.  Her  home  was  not  open  to  visitors,  as  was 
the  old  dwelling,  but  on  our  presenting  ourselves  at  the 
door  we  were  kindly  invited  in,  and  a  member  of  the 
household  was  deputed  to  introduce  us  to  everything 
of  public  interest  which  it  contained.  A  few  relics 
intimately  connected  with  the  great  statesman  were 
saved  from  the  flames  that  destroyed  his  house.  His 
study-table  of  mahogany,  veneered,  and  covered  with 
green  baize  worn  and  ink  stained,  occupied  a  promi- 
nent position  in  the  entrance  hall.     Near  it  was  his 


48  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

library  chair,  a  huge  affair,  with  leather-covered  arms 
and  seat  and  fitted  with  a  foot-rest  and  bookholder. 
Here,  too,  were  the  fire-screen  and  andirons  from  the 
fireplace  of  his  study.  Stuart's  portrait  of  Mr.  Webster 
occupied  a  good  position  over  the  mantel;  and  Ames's 
portrait  of  him,  as  he  appeared  in  farm-costume,  faced 
it  on  the  opposite  wall.  Above  the  latter  was  the 
great  white  wool  hat  that  always  protected  his  head 
while  fishing  or  walking  about  the  farm,  and  with  it 
his  favorite  walking-stick.  The  walls  of  the  wide 
stairway  and  of  the  hall  above  were  adorned  with  por- 
traits of  Grace  Fletcher,  Mr.  Webster's  first  wife,  and 
of  his  friend  Judge  Story,  and  with  busts  of  his  last 
wife,  Caroline  Le  Roy,  and  of  his  daughter  Julia.  In 
the  parlor  was  a  rosewood  table  from  the  old  house, 
covered  with  the  china  in  daily  use  by  the  family  dur- 
ing his  lifetime.  This  table  was  of  rosewood,  marble- 
topped  and  brass-bound.  Another  interesting  object 
here  was  a  table  presented  by  the  mechanics  of  Buffalo, 
in  1855,  "in  testimony  of  their  respect  for  his  distin- 
guished services  in  defence  of  a  protective  tariff  and  of 
our  national  union."  The  material  was  of  black  wal- 
nut, the  first  ever  used  in  furniture-making.  A  very 
pretty  memento  was  a  case  of  Brazilian  beetles  and 
butterflies  presented  to  him  by  the  Brazilian  govern- 
ment. A  beautifully  embossed  leather  armchair,  with 
gilded  frame  and  top,  the  gift  of  Victor  Emmanuel,  in 
the  music  room,  and  an  album  containing .  signatures 


A  Day  at  Green  Harbor  49 

of  Jefferson,  Everett,  and  other  famous  men,  were  the 
only  other  mementoes  of  note  spared  by  the  flames. 
Most  of  these  rehcs,  it  was  said,  Mrs.  Webster  would 
present  to  the  Webster  Historical  Society. 

Out  in  the  park  we  were  shown  two  elms  standing 
near  together,  their  branches  interlocked,  which  were 
planted  by  Mr.  Webster  himself,  one  at  the  birth  of 
his  son  Edwin,  the  other  at  the  birth  of  his  daughter 
JuHa,  and  which  he  called  brother  and  sister.  Another 
interesting  object  here  was  the  great  elm  that  sheltered 
the  old  house,  half  of  it  scorched  by  fire,  the  other  green 
and  vigorous. 

Green  Harbor  River,  or  rather  Inlet,  comes  up  to 
the  boundaries  of  the  park  in  the  rear  of  the  house, 
and  at  high  tide  is  navigable  for  small  boats  to  the 
ocean,  some  two  miles  distant.  Beyond  this,  over  bare, 
brown  uplands,  one  sees  the  white  tombstones  of  a 
country  graveyard.  The  yard  is  perhaps  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  house,  and  the  same  distance  from 
the  highway,  access  to  it  being  had  by  a  rude  road 
winding  through  the  fields.  It  is  one  of  the  district 
cemeteries  so  common  to  New  England,  and  holds  the 
dust  of  perhaps  a  score  of  the  families  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, obscure  and  titled,  —  for  what  was  our  surprise, 
in  strolling  among  the  tombs,  to  find,  on  a  great  table 
of  brown-stone  supported  by  four  pillars,  inscriptions 
to  the  memory  of  some  of  the  first  magistrates  of  the 
Plymouth  Colony!    The  yard  was  enclosed  on  three 


50  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

sides  by  a  mossy  stone  wall,  and  on  the  fourth  by  a 
modern  iron  fence.  There  were  no  trimly  kept  walks 
there;  low  stunted  cedars,  sumach,  wild  rose,  and  other 
bushes  grew  luxuriantly,  and  it  had  in  general  a  neg- 
lected air.  The  Webster  lot  was  in  the  southwest  cor- 
ner of  the  yard,  near  the  entrance,  and  was  enclosed 
by  a  heavy  iron  fence.  The  tomb  of  the  statesman  is 
a  great  mound  of  earth  surmounted  by  a  marble  slab, 
at  the  north  end  of  the  lot.  The  stone  has  this  inscrip- 
tion: "Daniel  Webster,  born  January  18,  1782;  died 
October  24,  1852.  'Lord,  I  believe;  help  thou  mine 
unbelief,' "  and  beneath  this,  "  Philosophical  argument, 
especially  that  drawn  from  the  vastness  of  the  universe 
compared  with  the  apparent  insignificance  of  the  globe, 
has  sometimes  shaken  my  reason  for  the  faith  which 
is  in  me;  but  my  heart  has  always  assured  and  reassured 
me  that  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  a  divine 
reality.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  cannot  be  a  merely 
human  production.  This  belief  enters  into  the  very 
depths  of  my  consciousness.  The  whole  history  of 
man  proves  it.     Daniel  Webster." 

The  plot  is  well  filled.  Grace  Fletcher  the  first  wife, 
and  Julia  the  favorite  daughter,  are  buried  at  the  left 
of  the  husband  and  father.  At  their  feet  are  three 
daughters  of  Fletcher  and  Caroline  Webster.  Near 
his  father's  right  rests  Major  Edward  Webster,  who 
died  of  disease  at  San  Angelo  in  Mexico,  in  Taylor's 
campaign  of  1848.     The  most  interesting  grave,  how- 


A  Day  at  Green  Harbor  51 

ever,  next  to  the  Senator's,  is  that  of  Colonel  Fletcher 
Webster,  the  gallant  soldier  who  fell  at  the  head  of  his 
regiment  in  the  war  of  the  rebellion.  The  inscription 
on  his  stone  is  so  eloquent  that  it  should  be  given  in 
full;  it  reads: 

"  Colonel  Fletcher  Webster,  12th  Massachusetts  Vol- 
unteers, son  of  Daniel  and  Grace  Fletcher  Webster; 
born  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  25th  July,  1813; 
fell  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  on  the  old  battle-field 
of  Bull  Run,  Virginia,  August  30,  1862. 

" '  And  if  I  am  too  old  myself,  I  hope  there  are  those 
connected  with  me  who  are  young  and  willing  to  de- 
fend their  country,  to  the  last  drop  of  their  own  blood.' 

"Erected  by  officers  of  the  12th  regiment  Massa- 
chusetts Infantry  to  the  memory  of  their  beloved 
colonel." 

Webster  was  fond  of  this  old  yard,  and  chose  it 
above  all  others  for  his  last  resting-place.  I  could  not 
but  be  struck  with  the  unique  —  almost  weird  —  view 
presented  from  its  summit. 

To  the  eastward  are  marshes  and  the  sea,  the  latter 
flecked  with  sails.  On  the  south  is  a  pleasant  country 
of  farms,  with  a  hamlet  of  white  cottages  set  in  its 
midst.  On  the  west  one  sees  a  stretch  of  bare,  undulat- 
ing down,  bounded  by  a  dense  forest.  Northwest 
across  the  fields  is  seen  Marshfield  village  and  spire, 
and  on  the  north  lies  a  wild  country  of  pastures  and 
downs.     The   spot  seemed   designed   for   meditation. 


52  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  in  fancy  we  pictured  the  bent  figure  of  the  great 
commoner  among  the  tombs,  communing  with  his 
dead,  or  drawing  inspiration  from  the  scene  about  him. 

Leaving  the  Webster  plot  and  going  for  a  Httle  ramble 
among  the  other  graves,  we  made  a  discovery  that  ought 
to  commend  us  to  the  Society  of  American  Antiquaries, 
—  that,  namely,  of  the  Winslow  tomb.  The  grave  is 
marked  by  a  great  table  of  brown  stone  supported  by 
four  stone  pillars.  The  Winslow  arms,  in  slate,  are 
set  into  the  stone,  and  beneath  are  the  inscriptions. 
Several  of  the  famous  persons  of  the  name  whose  por- 
traits one  sees  in  Pilgrim  Hall  are  here  commemorated: 
Governor  Josiah  Winslow,  the  first  native-born  Gov- 
ernor of  Plymouth  Colony,  who  died  in  1680;  his  wife 
Penelope;  the  Honorable  John  Winslow,  a  major- 
general  in  the  British  army,  and  the  officer  who  re- 
moved the  French  Acadians  from  their  country;  the 
Honorable  Isaac  Winslow,  Esq.;  with  later  and  less 
distinguished  members  of  the  family. 

On  our  way  back  to  the  station  we  called  on  Porter 
Wright,  formerly  overseer  of  the  Webster  farm,  and 
almost  the  only  person  then  living  who  was  on  intimate 
terms  with  Mr.  Webster.  He  managed  the  farm  for 
some  twelve  or  fifteen  years  preceding  the  latter 's 
death,  and  readily  consented  to  give  us  some  details 
of  his  stewardship,  as  well  as  recollections  of  his  em- 
ployer. He  first  saw  Mr.  Webster  on  the  occasion  of 
the  latter's  second  visit  to  Marslifield,  and  was  at  once 


A  Day  at  Green  Harbor  53 

struck  with  his  appearance.  "He  would  have  been  a 
marked  man,  sir,  in  any  company.  He  had  a  power- 
ful look.  I  never  saw  a  man  who  had  such  a  look. 
He  had  an  eye  that  would  look  through  you.  His 
first  purchase  here  was  the  homestead,  comprising 
some  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres;  but  he  had  a  passion 
for  land,  and  kept  adding  farm  to  farm  until  he  had 
an  estate  of  nearly  eighteen  hundred  acres.  The  farm 
extended  north  and  south  from  the  homestead,  and  to 
tide-water  on  the  east.  When  I  became  his  overseer 
I  used  to  see  him  daily  when  he  was  home,  which  was 
as  often  as  he  could  get  away  from  public  duties.  He 
loved  to  walk  about  the  farm  in  his  plain  clothes,  with 
a  great  white  wool  hat  on  his  head,  and  oversee  the 
men.  He  usually  gave  me  my  directions  for  the  day 
in  the  morning.  We  spent  the  latter  part  of  the  sum- 
mer making  plans  for  the  next  season's  work;  and 
when  he  was  in  Washington  I  had  to  write  him  nearly 
every  day  how  things  were  at  the  farm;  and  I  received 
instructions  from  him  as  often.  He  cared  little  for 
horses,  but  had  a  passion  for  a  good  ox-team.  We 
had  several  on  the  farm,  the  finest  in  the  county,  and 
I  have  known  him  on  his  return  from  Washington  pay 
them  a  visit  before  entering  the  house.  At  home  he 
was  an  early  riser,  generally  completing  his  writing  for 
the  day  before  other  members  of  the  family  were  up. 
He  breakfasted  ^vith  the  family  at  eight,  unless  going 
on  a  fishing  excursion,  when  he  took  breakfast  alone  at 


54  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

five.  Fishing  was  his  favorite  amusement.  He  had 
quite  a  fleet  of  sail-boats  and  row-boats,  and  fished 
along  the  coast  from  the  Gurnet  to  Scituate  Light.  He 
caught  cod  mostly,  but  took  also  haddock  and  perch. 
When  company  was  present,  he  invited  them  to  go 
with  him;  but  if  they  were  averse  he  generally  fitted 
them  out  with  some  other  amusement  and  went  his 
way  alone.  He  entertained  much  company,  —  gov- 
ernors, statesmen,  and  the  like,  —  but  was  averse  to 
giving  balls  or  parties  or  making  any  display.  He 
attended  church  at  Marshfield  regularly,  sometimes 
going  with  the  family  in  the  carriage,  and  sometimes 
on  horseback  alone.  He  often  spoke  to  me  about 
retiring  from  public  life  and  spending  his  days  quietly 
on  the  farm;  but  that  time,  as  you  know,  never  came. 
He  died  in  1852,  and  the  farm  was  divided  to  the  heirs 
—  his  son  Fletcher,  and  the  children  of  his  daughter 
Julia." 


CHAPTER  Vin 

SALEM 

\  LMOST  in  sight  of  Boston,  the  supplanter  near 
"^^-  the  point  where  Cape  Ann  breaks  away  from 
the  mainland,  is  Salem,  still  nautical  in  tone  and  tra- 
dition, although  scores  of  years  have  passed  since  she 
lost  her  hold  on  the  commerce  of  the  East.  Her  muni- 
cipal seal  bears  the  motto,  "To  the  furthest  port  of 
the  rich  East";  old  shipmasters  who  once  carried  her 
flag  to  the  furthest  seas  congregate  in  the  municipal 
offices  to  recount  their  conquests,  and  in  the  sunny 
nooks  of  Derby  Street  one  comes  on  little  knots  of 
grizzled  tars,  their  humble  allies  in  adventure.  In  my 
first  stroll  through  this  thoroughfare  I  met  an  aged 
negro  hobbling  along,  as  briny  and  tarry  as  though 
steeped  for  years  in  those  concomitants  of  a  seafaring 
life.  To  my  query  as  to  the  name  of  the  street  he  re- 
plied promptly,  "Darby  Street,  sah;  run  along  heah, 
fore  and  aft,"  indicating  the  water-front  with  his  fore- 
finger. This  Derby  Street  is  a  marvelously  suggestive 
thoroughfare  to  the  dreamer.  Visions  of  it  at  its  best 
still  haunt  it.  Ghostly  shadows  of  stately  East  India- 
men,   Canton  tea  ships,   and  African  treasure  ships. 


56  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

fall  athwart  it.  Faint  odors  of  the  cassia,  aloes,  gums, 
and  sandalwood  of  other  days  linger  about  it,  and 
shadowy  heaps  of  precious  merchandise  burden  the 
wharves.  The  silent  warehouses  are  again  open,  and 
porters  busy  within  under  the  eye  of  precise  clerks  and 
supercargoes  with  pens  over  their  ears  and  ink  blotches 
on  their  long  linen  coats.  In  the  counting-rooms  the 
portly  merchants  greet  buyers  from  all  countries;  the 
sail-makers  are  busy  in  their  lofts;  in  long  low  buildings 
spinners  with  strands  of  hemp  tread  the  rope-walk;  the 
ship  chandlers'  shops  are  thronged;  the  street  is  filled 
w^th  men  of  all  nations. 

But,  dreaming  aside,  there  is  sometliing  phenomenal 
in  the  early  growth  of  Salem's  commerce.  Her  achieve- 
ments were  largely  due  to  the  genius  of  her  own  citizens, 
and  they  w^orked,  it  is  well  to  note,  with  inherited 
tendencies.  Salem  was  founded  for  a  trading-post  by 
a  company  of  English  merchants,  whose  agents  selected 
it  because  of  its  commercial  advantages.  They  began 
a  trade  with  it  at  once,  several  cargoes  of  "staves, 
sarsaparilla,  sumach,  fish,  and  beaver  skins,"  being 
exported  as  early  as  1630.  By  1643,  while  Plymouth 
still  remained  a  primitive  hamlet,  her  merchants  had 
a  flourishing  trade  with  the  West  Indies,  Barbadoes, 
and  the  Leeward  Islands. 

Previous  to  the  Revolution  the  trade  of  Salem  was 
chiefly  with  the  colonies,  the  West  Indies,  and  the 
principal  European  ports.     The  vessels  had  an  estab- 


Salem  57 

lished  routine,  loading  at  Salem  with  fish,  lumber,  and 
provisions,  clearing  for  some  port  in  the  West  Indies, 
and  thence  running  through  the  islands  until  they 
found  a  satisfactory  market.  In  return  they  loaded 
with  sugar,  molasses,  cotton,  and  rum,  or  ran  across  to 
the  Carolinas  for  rice  and  naval  stores.  From  this  trafiic 
assorted  cargoes  were  made  up  for  the  European  ports, 
and  wine,  salt,  and  manufactured  products  brought 
back  in  return.  Colonial  commerce  was  very  hazardous, 
assaults  of  pirates,  buccaneers,  and  French  privateers 
being  added  to  the  risks  of  the  sea.  It  was  profitable, 
however.  A  writer  of  1G64  speaks  of  Salem's  "rich 
merchants  "  and  of  her  solid,  many-gabled  mansions. 

The  Revolution,  of  course,  stopped  all  commerce; 
but  with  the  return  of  peace  in  1783  dawned  the  golden 
age  of  the  port.  In  twenty-four  years  she  had  a  fleet 
of  252  vessels  in  commission,  and  her  merchants  were 
in  commercial  relations  with  India,  China,  Batavia, 
the  Isle  of  France,  Mozambique,  Russia,  and  all  the 
nearer  commercial  countries. 

The  credit  of  opening  India,  China,  and,  indeed,  the 
entire  East  to  American  commerce,  is  due  to  Elias  H. 
Derby,  a  Salem  merchant,  born  in  the  port  in  1739. 
This  gentleman  possessed  a  courage  and  enterprise 
that  no  obstacles  could  daunt,  and  determined  to  enter 
the  rich  field  then  monopolized  by  the  English  and 
Dutch  East  India  Companies.  Accordingly  in  1784 
he    despatched    the    ship    Grand    Turk,    under    Capt. 


58  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Jonathan  Ingersoll,  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  on  a 
mercantile  reconnoissance,  to  discover  the  needs  and 
capacity  of  the  Eastern  market.  She  returned  in  less 
than  a  year  with  the  information  sought,  was  quickly 
reloaded,  and  on  the  28th  of  November,  1785,  cleared 
for  the  Isle  of  France,  with  instructions  to  proceed 
thence  to  Canton,  via  Batavia.  The  ship  was  laden 
with  native  products  —  fish,  flour,  provisions,  tobacco, 
spirits  —  and  made  a  successful  voyage,  returning  in 
June,  1787,  with  a  cargo  of  teas,  silks,  and  nankeens, 
the  first  vessel  from  New  England,  if  not  from  America, 
to  enter  into  competition  with  the  incorporated  com- 
panies of  the  Old  World.  Her  success  seems  to  have 
electrified  the  merchants  of  Salem,  Boston,  and  New 
York,  and  an  eager  rivalry  for  the  trade  of  the  Orient 
ensued,  with  the  result  that  when  Mr.  Derby's  ship 
Astria  entered  Canton  two  years  later  she  found  fifteen 
American  vessels  there  taking  in  cargo,  four  of  them 
belonging  to  our  merchant,  however,  who  had  not  been 
slow  in  improving  his  advantages  as  pioneer.  This 
was  not  the  only  pioneer  work  that  he  did.  His  bark 
Light  Horse  in  1784  first  opened  American  trade  with 
Russia.  In  1788  his  ship  Atlantic  first  displayed  the 
American  flag  at  Surat,  Calcutta,  and  Bombay.  An- 
other did  the  same  in  Siam ;  a  third  was  the  first  to  open 
trade  with  Mocha.  In  1790,  it  is  said,  his  vessels 
brought  into  Salem  728,871  pounds  of  tea,  these  ven- 
tures being  among  the  first  in  the  tea  trade. 


Salem  59 

From  this  period  until  near  the  outbreak  of  the  civil 
war,  Salem  had  vast  interests  on  the  seas.  A  brief 
interval  between  1807  and  1815  is  to  be  noted,  caused 
by  the  Embargo  Act  and  war  of  1812.  The  Canton 
trade,  as  we  have  seen,  came  first,  quickly  followed  by 
India  and  East  India  ventures.  By  1800  records  of 
the  customs  show  her  ships  trading  with  Manila, 
Mauritius,  Surinam,  the  Gold  Coast,  Mocha,  India, 
China,  East  and  West  Indies,  Russia,  the  Mediter- 
ranean ports,  France,  England,  Holland,  Norway, 
Madeira,  the  South  American  ports,  and  the  British 
provinces.  The  chief  commodities  from  the  East  were 
cotton,  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  hides,  spices,  redwood  and 
other  dyestuffs,  gums,  silks,  and  nankeens;  from  Russia 
and  Germany,  iron,  duck,  and  hemp;  from  France, 
Spain,  and  Madeira,  wine  and  lead;  from  the  West 
Indies,  sugar,  spirits,  and  negroes.  The  exports  com- 
prised lumber,  provisions,  tobacco,  silver  dollars,  and 
New  England  rum,  the  Gold  Coast  affording  the  best 
market  for  the  latter. 

Several  of  the  old  merchants  and  captains  who 
directed  this  vast  commerce  linger  in  the  port,  and  the 
tourist  who  is  an  intelligent  listener  finds  them  ready 
to  entertain  hirri  by  the  hour  Vvith  tales  and  reminis- 
cences of  those  stirring  days.  Of  famous  ships,  notable 
voyages,  adventurous  skippers,  and  mighty  merchants 
these  reminiscences  are  full.  The  little  ketch  Eliza, 
for  instance,  left  Salem  December  22,  1794,  ran  out  to 


60  In  Olcle  Massachusetts 

Calcutta,  unloaded,  took  in  cargo,  and  sailed  proudly 
into  the  home  port  October  8,  1705,  barely  nine  months 
absent.  The  AcHve,  a  sharp  httle  brig,  in  181-2  brought 
a  cargo  of  tea  and  cassia  from  Canton  in  118  days. 
Her  rival,  the  Osprey,  beat  her,  making  the  same  voy- 
age in  117  days.  The  ship  China  left  Salem  for  Canton 
May  24,  1817,  and  arrived  back,  with  a  cargo  of  tea, 
silks,  and  nankeens,  March  30,  1818,  barely  ten  months 
out.  A  famous  vessel  was  the  clipper  ship  George,  of 
the  Calcutta  trade,  built  in  1814  for  a  privateer  by  an 
association  of  Salem  ship-carpenters.  The  war  end- 
ing before  she  was  launched,  Joseph  Peabody,  a  lead- 
ing Salem  merchant  of  those  days,  added  her  to  his 
India  fleet.  For  twenty-three  years  this  vessel  made 
voyages  between  Salem  and  Calcutta  with  the  regularity 
of  a  steamer.  She  left  Salem  for  her  first  voyage  May 
23,  1815,  and  made  the  home  port  again  June  13,  1816, 
109  days  from  Calcutta.  She  left  Salem  on  her  last 
voyage  August  5,  1836,  and  returned  May  17,  1837, 
111  days  from  Calcutta,  the  eighteen  voyages  performed 
between  the  first  and  last  dates  varying  little  in  duration 
from  the  standard.  One  item  of  her  imports  during 
this  period  was  755,000  pounds  of  indigo.  The  ship 
Margaret,  in  the  Batavia  trade,  has  an  equally  inter- 
esting history.  She  cleared  for  Sumatra  November  19, 
1800,  with  twelve  casks  of  Malaga  wine,  two  hogsheads 
bacon,  and  $50,000  in  specie,  stood  out  to  sea  November 
25,  arrived  in  Table  Bay,  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  Feb- 


Salem  61 

ruarv  4.  1801,  reached  Sumatra  April  10,  and  without 
stopping  to  trade  proceeded  to  Batavia.  Here  her 
captain,  Samuel  Derby,  found  the  Dutch  East  India 
Company  desirous  of  chartering  a  vessel  to  take  their 
annual  freights  to  and  from  Japan,  and  engaged  his 
vessel  and  crew  for  the  senice.  He  left  on  June  20, 
and  arrived  at  Nagasaki  July  19,  being  met  in  the  open 
roadstead  with  a  command  to  fire  salutes  and  dress  his 
vessel  in  bunting  before  entering  the  port.  On  once 
getting  ashore,  however,  the  captain  and  his  super- 
cargo were  very  hospitably  entertained  by  the  mer- 
chants of  the  place.  They  were  feasted,  the  lady  of 
the  house  was  introduced  and  drank  tea  with  them,  and 
they  were  shown  the  temples  and  pubhc  places  of  the 
city.  The  Margaret  got  away  in  November,  and 
reached  Bata%da  after  a  month's  passage.  Her  voyage 
was  noteworthy,  because  she  was  the  second  American 
vessel  to  enter  a  Japanese  port,  a  Boston  vessel,  the 
Franklin,  commanded  by  a  Salem  captain,  being  the 
first.  The  whole  trade  of  the  country  at  this  time  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  Dutch,  who,  to  retain  it,  submitted 
to  the  most  vexatious  restrictions  and  to  many  indig- 
nities. Fifty-three  years  later  Commodore  Perry's 
expedition  opened   Japan  to  the  world. 

Among  skippers  Capt.  Jonathan  Carnes  figures  most 
largely  in  their  reminiscences.  In  1794  he  was  in 
Bencoolin.  Sumatra,  and  chanced  to  learn  that  pepper 
grew  wild  in  the  northwestern  part  of  the  island.     He 


62  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

hastened  home,  and  shared  his  secret  with  a  wealthy 
merchant,  Mr.  Jonathan  Peele,  who  at  once  ordered 
a  sharp,  trim  schooner  of  130  tons  on  the  stocks.  She 
was  finished  early  in  1795,  fitted  with  four  guns,  and 
a  cargo  of  brandy,  gin,  iron,  tobacco,  and  salmon. 
Captain  Carnes  with  his  ten  seamen  then  went  on  board 
and  stood  away  for  Sumatra,  having  given  out  that 
his  destination  was  Calcutta,  and  clearing  for  that  port. 
Eighteen  months  passed  away,  and  still  Merchant  Peele 
heard  no  tidings.  At  length  one  June  day  in  1797 
his  schooner  came  gliding  into  port,  the  ship-masters 
and  merchants  crowding  about  her  as  she  was  moored 
to  see  what  she  had  brought  home,  her  long  disappear- 
ance and  her  owner's  reticence  having  caused  no  little 
speculation  in  the  port.  By  and  by  the  hatches  were 
opened,  and  there  the  cargo  was  found  to  be  pepper 
in  bulk,  the  first  ever  imported  in  that  way.  But  as 
no  known  port  delivered  the  article  in  that  state,  the 
rumor  went  round  that  the  Rajah  had  discovered  a 
pepper  island  where  the  condiment  could  be  had  for 
the  asking,  and  in  twenty-four  hours  half  a  score  of 
shipping  firms  were  fitting  out  swift  cruisers  to  go  in 
search  of  it.  Ere  they  were  out.  Captain  Carnes  had 
sold  his  cargo  at  an  advance  of  700  per  cent,  and  was 
away  for  another  voyage,  bringing  off  several  ship-loads 
before  his  secret  was  discovered. 

Elias  H.  Derby,  the  pioneer,  was  the  chief  of  Salem 
merchants.     Between  1785  and  1799  he  fitted  out  125 


Salem  63 

voyages  in  thirty-seven  different  vessels,  most  of  them 
to  unknown  ports.  His  last  voyage  was  in  some  respects 
his  most  brilliant  one.  Hostilities  between  France  and 
the  United  States  had  just  begun  when  he  equipped 
a  stanch  vessel,  the  Mount  Vernon,  with  twenty  guns 
and  fifty  men,  loaded  her  with  sugar,  and  sent  her  to 
the  Mediterranean.  The  cargo  cost  $43,275.  The 
vessel  was  attacked  by  the  French  cruisers  on  her 
voyage,  but  beat  them  off,  made  her  port,  exchanged 
her  sugar  for  a  cargo  of  silks  and  wines,  and  returned 
to  Salem  in  safety,  realizing  her  owners  a  net  profit  of 
$100,000.  Mr.  Derby  died  in  1799,  before  his  venture  be- 
came a  certainty,  leaving  an  estate  of  more  than  a  million 
dollars,  said  to  have  been  the  largest  fortune  that  had 
been  accumulated  in  this  country  up  to  that  date. 

William  Gray,  Joseph  Peabody,  John  Bertram, 
William  Orne,  and  George  Crowninshield  were  worthy 
successors  of  Mr.  Derby.  Mr.  Gray  was  a  native  of 
Lynn,  and  received  his  business  training  in  the  count- 
ing-room of  Richard  Derby.  In  1807  he  owned  one 
fourth  the  tonnage  of  the  port.  Salem's  chief  hotel,  the 
Essex  House,  was  his  former  mansion.  Political  difficul- 
ties led  to  his  removal  to  Boston  in  1809.  The  next  year 
he  was  elected  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  State,  and 
again  in  1811.  He  died  at  Boston  in  1825,  having  been 
as  prosperous  in  commercial  affairs  there  as  in  Salem. 

Joseph  Peabody  was  one  of  several  merchants  of 
Salem  who  passed  from  the  quarter  deck  to  the  count- 


64  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

ing-room.  After  serving  on  board  a  privateer  he  be- 
came a  captain  in  the  merchant  marine  of  Salem,  and  as 
soon  as  he  accumulated  a  little  capital  engaged  actively 
in  commerce.  During  his  mercantile  career  he  built 
eighty-three  ships,  which  he  employed  in  all  cases  in 
his  own  trade.  These  vessels  made  tliirty-two  voyages 
to  Sumatra,  thirty-eight  to  Calcutta,  seventeen  to 
Canton,  forty-seven  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  tliirty  to 
various  other  ports  of  Europe.  He  shipped  seven 
thousand  seamen  at  various  times  to  man  tliis  fleet, 
and  thirty-five  of  those  who  entered  his  service  as  cabin- 
boys  he  advanced  to  be  masters.  Some  of  his  vessels 
in  the  China  trade  made  remarkable  voyages.  The 
little  brig  Leander,  for  instance,  of  only  223  tons'  bur- 
den, brought  in  a  cargo  from  Canton  in  1826  which 
paid  duties  to  the  amount  of  $92,392.94.  His  ship 
Sumatra,  of  287  tons,  brought  a  cargo  in  1829  that  paid 
$128,363.13;  in  1830,  one  that  paid  $138,480.34;  and 
in  1831,  a  third  requiring  $140,761.96.  Mr.  Peabody 
outlived  most  of  the  pioneer  merchants  of  Salem,  dying 
in  1874. 

In  1870  the  foreign  entries  of  Salem  had  dwindled 
to  ten,  and  in  1878  had  entirely  ceased,  Boston,  with 
her  greater  facilities  for  handling  and  distributing, 
having  absorbed  the  business  of  her  whilom  rival.  To- 
day the  old  port  is  almost  deserted  of  shipping;  even 
the  fishing  craft  furl  their  sails  at  Gloucester.  It  is 
rarely  that  a  dray  rumbles  over  Derby  Street. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ANOTHER   VIEW    OF   SALEM 

THE  quaint  old  Custom-house  on  Derby  Street, 
looking  down  on  Derby  wharf,  is  the  link  connect- 
ing the  commercial  with  the  literary  history  of  Salem. 
Here  for  three  long  years  Hawthorne  sat  and  dreamed 
and  wrote,  seeing  in  its  officers  and  habitues  prototypes 
of  his  most  distinctive  characters,  and  finally  discover- 
ing in  its  rubbish  room  the  suggestions  for  his  most 
famous  romance. 

The  building  is  a  large,  two-storied  brick  structure, 
surmounted  by  a  cupola  and  eagle,  not  old  —  dating 
only  from  1819  —  but  with  an  air  of  age.  Entering 
the  hall  by  a  broad  flight  of  several  steps,  on  your  right 
is  a  bulletin  board  filled  with  nautical  notices,  and  on 
the  left  and  right,  further  on,  two  doors,  the  first  open- 
ing into  the  Deputy  Collector's  room,  the  second  into 
the  office  where  the  customs  business  is  transacted. 
One  regards  its  railed  periphery  with  more  interest  when 
one  reflects  that  over  eleven  millions  of  dollars  have 
passed  over  it  into  Uncle  Sam's  coffers,  together  with 
the  clearances  and  invoices  of  some  ten  thousand  ves- 
sels.    We  found  the  Custom-house  attaches  pleasant, 


66  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  disposed  to  facilitate  our  seeing  ever3i;hing  of  interest 
in  the  building.  A  gentleman  in  blue  led  us  across 
the  hall  and  into  the  room  of  the  Deputy  Collector, 
which,  from  1846  to  1849,  had  been  occupied  by  the 
great  romancer.  That  officer  kindly  showed  us  the 
place  where  Hawthorne's  desk  and  armchair  had  stood, 
and  the  stencil-plate  with  which  he  put  his  name  on 
packages;  then,  opening  his  desk,  he  took  out  for  our 
inspection  a  package  of  yellow  documents,  manifests, 
orders,  and  the  like,  with  the  author's  autograph  in 
red  ink  upon  them.  No  other  relics  remain.  The 
Custom-house  was  refurnished  in  1873,  and  Haw- 
thorne's desk  was  then  removed  to  the  Essex  Institute, 
where  it  is  still  preserved.  From  this  room  our  guide 
led  us  up-stairs  and  through  the  Collector's  parlors  to  a 
little  ante-chamber,  which  he  said  in  Hawthorne's  day 
was  used  for  storing  old  papers  and  rubbish.  It  was 
in  this  room  —  the  weird  genius  tells  his  readers  — 
that  he  found  the  manuscript  of  the  "Scarlet  Letter." 
Our  guide  was  very  skeptical  on  this  point.  "  I  don't 
believe  he  did,"  said  he;  "I  think  he  made  it  all  up 
himself."  But  we  forbore  expressing  an  opinion.  A 
little  later  we  climbed  alone  to  the  cupola.  It  is  a  small 
room  under  the  gilded  eagle,  commanding  a  charming 
view  of  Salem,  the  shipping,  and  the  sea  beyond. 
Hither  the  author  loved  to  climb  and  coin  the  airy 
fancies  that  later  found  expression  in  the  "Scarlet 
Letter"  and  the  "House  of  the  Seven  Gables." 


o 

m 

U 


Another  View  of  Salem  67 

There  are  many  well-preserved  old  men  in  the 
town  who  remember  Hawthorne  as  Surveyor  of  the 
Port.  One  —  a  portly,  comfortable-looking  old  gentle- 
man, who,  when  the  author  was  filling  his  sinecure 
position  in  the  Custom-house,  was  fitting  with  rigging 
and  sails  the  numerous  craft  turned  out  of  Salem 
ship-yards  —  now  rich  and  retired,  had  nothing  better 
to  do  than  to  accompany  me  up  the  street  and  point 
out  two  ancient  buildings  quite  intimately  connected 
with  our  author's  history.  "The  Hawthornes  are 
an  old  family  in  Salem,"  he  remarked,  as  we  began 
our  walk,  "  and  well  thought  of.  Major  William  Haw- 
thorne, who  came  with  Governor  Winthrop  in  the 
Arabella,  founded  the  stock,  and  there  have  been 
notable  and  thrifty  men  among  them  ever  since.  This 
is  No.  21  Union  Street,  a  quaint  old  structure,  with 
huge  chimney  and  dormer  roof,  as  you  see.  Well,  in 
the  upper  northeast  corner  room,  there,  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne was  born.  It  was  an  auspicious  day  —  July  4, 
1804.  There  he  lived  until  1808,  when  his  father  died, 
and  he,  with  his  mother,  went  to  live  with  his  maternal 
grandfather,  Richard  Manning,  on  Herbert  Street.  It 
was  not  a  far  remove,  for,  as  you  see,  the  back  yards  of 
the  two  houses  join  each  other.  Most  of  his  early 
years  in  Salem  were  spent  in  the  latter.  When  he 
came  back  here  from  Concord  in  1840  he  went  to  live 
in  his  father's  house  on  Union  Street,  where  much  of 
his  literary  work  of  that  period  was  done.     You  may 


68  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

remember  an  allusion  of  his  to  this  old  house  —  I  think 
in  one  of  his  Note-books:  'Here  I  sit,'  he  wrote,  'in  my 
old  accustomed  chamber  where  I  used  to  sit  in  days 
gone  by.  Here  I  have  written  many  tales.  If  ever  I 
have  a  biographer,  he  ought  to  make  mention  of  this 
chamber,  in  my  memoirs,  because  here  my  mind  and 
character  were  formed,  and  here  I  sat  a  long,  long  time 
waiting  patiently  for  the  world  to  know  me,  and  some- 
times wondering  why  it  did  not  know  me  sooner,  or 
whether  it  would  ever  know  me  at  all  —  at  least  until 
I  was  in  my  grave.' " 

There  are  other  houses  in  town  of  interest  from  their 
association  with  great  men.  William  H.  Prescott  was 
born  in  1796,  in  a  house  that  stood  on  the  present  site 
of  Plummer  Hall.  The  old  mansion  in  which  Mr. 
Joshua  Ward  entertained  President  Washington  on  his 
visit  to  Salem  in  1789  was  pointed  out  on  Washington 
Street.  The  birthplace  of  Timothy  Pickering  was  an 
old  mansion  on  Broad  Street,  and  that  of  Nathaniel 
Bowditch  on  Brown  Street.  Story  and  Rogers,  the 
sculptors,  were  also  natives  here. 


CHAPTER  X 

MARBLEHEAD    SCENES,    1885 

A  MORE  uninviting  spot  for  a  town  site  than 
Marblehead  presents  was  never  discovered.  The 
granite  crags  and  backbones  that  make  up  the  surface 
of  Cape  Ann  are  here  at  their  sharpest  and  boldest. 
A  bare  summit  of  rock,  a  sunny  green  hollow  be- 
tween, was  the  scene  looked  on  by  the  little  body  of 
fishermen  who  laid  the  foundation  of  Marblehead. 
The  harbor,  a  deep,  sheltered  cove  extending  two  miles 
into  the  rocky  heart  of  the  cape,  was  the  great  attraction 
to  these  men,  whose  houses  were  built  along  the  water 
front.  The  steam  cars  land  you  in  the  modern  quarter; 
to  get  over  to  old  Marblehead  it  is  necessary  to  walk  or 
ride  a  fraction  of  a  mile  to  the  water-side.  Here  are 
deserted,  barnacled  old  wharves,  to  which  only  an 
occasional  collier  or  lumber  schooner  "ties  up,"  dim, 
empty  storehouses,  retaining  a  faint,  ghostly  smell  of 
cod  and  mackerel,  and  no  end  of  narrow,  winding 
streets  and  alleys,  lined  some  with  quaint  little  box- 
like houses,  others  with  large,  once  stately  dwellings. 

Follow  State  Street  east  till  it  terminates  in  a  waste 
of  boulders  and  ledges,  and  you  have  on  the  right,  at 


70  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

the  extreme  point  of  land  guarding  the  entrance  to 
the  harbor,  an  old  fort,  but  never  a  sentry  to  challenge 
your  coming,  nor  gun  to  dispute  your  passage.  This 
is  Fort  Sewall,  named  after  the  Hon.  Judge  Sewall, 
built  in  colonial  times  for  defence  against  the  French 
and  Spanish  privateers,  that  were  often  seen  hovering 
off  the  coast.  I  have  never  looked  on  a  wilder  scene, 
one  more  suggestive  of  wreck  and  death,  than  these 
rocks  at  the  entrance  of  Marblehead  harbor  —  sharp, 
jagged,  serrated  masses,  they  resemble  the  teeth  of 
some  huge  monster  widespread  to  crunch  the  bones  of 
anytliing  which  should  enter.  Terrible  indeed  must 
be  the  scene  when  an  easterly  gale  sends  the  surges  of 
the  Atlantic  booming  in  here  unrestrained.  What  a 
roar,  what  gnashing,  what  floods  of  milk-white  foam 
and  uplifted  spray  when  the  two  forces  meet! 

One  should  defer  first  impressions  of  the  town  until, 
passing  down  Pond  Street,  he  has  stood  in  the  old 
burying-ground,  the  first  in  Marblehead.  It  lies  scat- 
tered amid  the  crags  on  high  ground  near  the  sea, 
abreast  of  the  old  fort,  but  overlooking  it.  The  town, 
the  harbor,  Marblehead  Neck  with  its  summer  cottages, 
the  blue  sea  with  its  islands,  lie  outstretched  before  one. 
The  dead  in  this  old  churchyard  lie  about  in  the  hollows 
wherever  sufficient  depth  of  soil  for  interment  could  be 
found.  Some  of  the  tombstones  are  very  old  and  bear 
quaint  inscriptions.  One  on  the  south  side  reads, 
"Here  lyes  ye  body  of  Mary  wife  to  Christopher  Lati- 


m 


2  -a 


W 


O   ^ 


Marblehead  Scenes  71 

mer  aged  49  years  deceased  ye  8th  of  May  1681."  Her 
husband  has  a  stone  near  by  dated  1690.  Over  the 
hill  is  another  stone  with  a  notable  inscription:  "Here 
lies  ye  body  of  Mrs.  Miriam  Grose  who  deceased  in 
the  eighty  first  year  of  her  age  and  left  180  children 
grand-children,  and  great  grand-children."  What  more 
honorable  epitaph  could  a  matron  desire?  Near  by 
lies  EHzabeth  Holyoke,  "wife  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Edward 
Holyoke  born  Feb.  ye  4th  1691,  was  married  August  ye 
18th  1717,  and  died  August  ye  15th  1719  leaving  an 
infant  daughter  of  eleven  weeks'  old."  Mr.  Holyoke 
was  one  of  the  early  presidents  of  Harvard.  A  cluster 
of  five  brown  tombstones  in  a  hollow  near  the  crest  of 
the  hill  calls  attention  to  the  place  of  sepulture  of  four 
early  pastors  of  "the  First  Church"  in  Marblehead, 
and  the  wife  of  one.  The  first  pastor  was  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Cheever,  who  died  May  29,  1724.  Next  him 
sleeps  his  colleague  and  successor,  the  Rev.  John 
Barnard;  liis  wife,  Anna,  rests  beside  her  husband; 
next  her  stone  is  that  of  the  Rev.  William  Whitwell, 
who  died  in  1781;  and  the  fifth  commemorates  the  Rev. 
Salem  Hubbard,  whose  death  occurred  in  1808.  Two 
of  the  graves  have  Latin  inscriptions  on  the  head- 
stones. A  group  of  brown-stone  tables  near  by  marks 
the  graves  of  the  Story  family,  the  Rev.  Isaac  Story, 
an  uncle  of  the  famous  jurist,  being  one  of  those  com- 
memorated. 

Seats  are  placed  at  intervals  on  this  outlook  ground, 


72  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  should  the  reader  be  so  fortunate  as  to  visit  the 
churchyard  on  a  Sunday,  he  may  find  the  bench  on  the 
crest  of  the  hill  occupied  by  sundry  rugged  skippers  of 
the  famous  old  Marblehead  fishing  fleet.  They  love  to 
gather  there  of  a  Sunday  morning  or  evening,  look  out 
on  the  sea  and  down  on  the  roofs  of  the  town,  mingle 
reminiscences,  and  mildly  criticise  the  ruling  powers. 

Coming  upon  them  on  a  bright  afternoon,  we  found 
these  worthy  citizens  most  communicative,  and  a  few 
questions  served  to  elicit  some  very  delightful  remi- 
niscences. They  heartily  agreed  in  our  commendation 
of  the  outlook.  "You  see  the  farthest  island  yonder 
with  the  two  lighthouses  on  it,"  said  one;  "that's 
Baker's  Island,  a  skipper's  landmark  for  the  port  when 
returning  from  the  Banks.  That  little  islet  this  side 
is  Half- Way  Rock,  half-way  between  Boston  Light 
and  Cape  Ann.  Right  in  the  path  of  shipping,  and 
never  a  vessel  struck  on  it  yet.  Lowell's  Island  comes 
next,  with  the  big  summer  hotel  on  it,  built  by  a  Salem 
man;  it  didn't  pay,  though;  people  wanted  to  be  where 
they  could  step  ashore  now  and  then ;  'twould  'a'  burned 
down  long  ago  if  there'd  been  insurance  on  it.  The  old 
fort  on  the  P'int  there  —  Fort  Sewall  —  is  a  relic, 
built  in  colony  times  and  named  after  Judge  Sewall. 
There  is  a  nice  httle  story  too  connected  with  it.  A 
few  years  before  the  Revolution  one  Sir  Charles  Frank- 
lin was  sent  here  to  repair  it,  and  stopped  at  the  Foun- 
tain Inn,  whose  roof  you  can  see  down  yonder  under 


Marblehead  Scenes  73 

the  trees.  There  was  a  maid  servant  there  —  Agnes 
Surrage  —  very  pretty.  Sir  Charles  was  heard  to  say 
she  was  the  prettiest  woman  he  had  ever  seen.  He 
found  her  one  day  barefooted  scrubbing  the  stairs,  and 
asked  her  why  she  didn't  wear  shoes.  'If  you  please, 
sir,'  said  Agnes,  droppin'  a  courtesy, '  I'm  sa\an'  'em  for 
meetin'.'  Whereupon  Sir  Charles  declared  she  should 
wear  shoes  every  day,  sent  her  to  school,  educated  her, 
and  many  years  later  in  Lisbon,  after  his  wife  had  died, 
married  her.  The  gossips  said  the  great  earthquake 
frightened  him  into  it. 

"All  through  the  war  of  the  Revolution  the  fort  de- 
fended the  town.  In  Februray,  1814,  there  was  great 
commotion  within  its  walls.  The  drums  beat  to  arms, 
and  all  the  people  flocked  to  the  hill  to  learn  the  cause 
of  the  disturbance.  Several  British  cruisers  were  off 
the  coast  in  those  days,  and  they  now  saw  two  of  them 
chasing  one  of  our  vessels,  the  gallant  old  Constitution, 
as  it  turned  out.  She  ran  far  enough  to  get  a  good 
position,  and  then  turned  and  thrashed  the  Britishers 
handsomely  —  took  'em  both  into  Boston,  the  frigate 
Cyane  of  thirty-four  guns  and  the  sloop  of  war  Levant 
of  twenty-one  guns.  It  is  really  too  bad  for  Govern- 
ment to  let  the  old  fort  go  to  ruin.  There  ain't  a  bit 
of  a  garrison,  you  see,  only  a  custodian,  who  lives  'way 
over  there,  and  takes  a  walk  through  the  old  fort  may 
be  once  a  week  to  see  that  'taint  carried  off  piecemeal 
by  visitors." 


74  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

We  asked  about  the  Story  tombs  and  the  family  of 
the  Chief  Justice. 

"Oh,  yes;  he  was  a  Marblehead  boy,"  they  repHed. 
"His  father.  Dr.  Ehsha  Story,  practised  here  all  his 
life,  married  a  Marblehead  girl,  and  is  buried  in  the 
Green  Street  yard.  The  Chief  Justice  was  born  here, 
schooled  here  under  Master  John  Bond,  and  went  from 
here  to  Cambridge.  His  uncle,  Isaac  Story,  who  lies 
yonder,  was  pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in 
Marblehead  for  many  years." 


CHAPTER  XI 

QUAINT   OLD    BARNSTABLE 

BARNSTABLE  is  one  of  the  quaintest,  staidest, 
and  most  interesting  of  Cape  villages.  Unlike 
the  towns  nearer  the  point,  there  is  a  green  rural  land- 
scape inland,  while  the  marine  view  is  the  finest  on  the 
coast.  To  get  a  view  of  the  latter,  one  must  follow 
the  main  street  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  harbor-mouth 
and  the  sweep  of  sand  dunes  which  wall  it  in  and  add 
greatly  to  the  impressiveness  of  the  scene.  This  main 
street  is  of  itself  a  feature.  It  is  broad,  elm-shaded, 
lined  with  old,  mossy,  long-roofed  dwellings,  and  smart 
new  cottages  and  villas  in  equal  proportions.  Begin- 
ning at  the  railway  station  on  the  bluff,  it  winds  down 
into  the  valley  and  around  the  head  of  a  cove  jutting 
in  from  the  harbor,  then  up  Training  Hill,  passing  on 
the  crest  an  ancient  church,  blankly  white,  with  graves 
in  the  rear,  of  such  families  as  the  Otises,  Thatchers, 
Hinckleys,  and  others,  and  continues  on,  lined  with  fine 
old  country-seats,  to  its  terminus  at  "the  Point." 
About  midway  stands  the  village  tavern,  under  a  group 
of  mighty  elms,  old,  rambling,  and  mossy,  serving  to 
remind  the  traveler  how  cheerless  and  uncomfortable 


76  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

the  inn  of  colonial  times  could  be.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  Dr.  Dwight,  in  his  famous  pilgrimage  over  the 
Cape  in  1800,  as  recorded  in  vol.  iii.  of  his  ' '  Travels," 
stopped  at  this  tavern. 

A  road  leaves  the  main  street  at  the  foot  of  Training 
Hill  under  the  church,  and  follows  the  trend  of  the  cove 
beside  slowly  decaying  docks  to  the  harbor-mouth;  the 
broad  expanse  of  salt  meadow,  and  the  wide  sweep  of 
dunes.  From  this  bluff  the  eye  roves  delightedly  over 
the  scene.  Beside  us  is  the  harbor  —  open  water  — 
one  mile  wide  and  four  miles  long.  Thrust  out  from 
Sandwich,  which  joins  Barnstable  on  the  west,  is  Sandy 
Neck,  a  long  tongue  of  sand  one  and  one-half  miles 
wide  and  seven  miles  long,  crooked  landward  like  a 
bent  forefinger.  On  the  outside  of  this  finger  lies  the 
cold  steel-blue  sea;  within  is  the  harbor,  and  perhaps 
the  greatest  body  of  salt  meadow  on  the  Atlantic  Coast. 
Eight  thousand  tons  of  hay  are  cut  upon  it  annually 
by  the  fortunate  owners.  The  sand  on  the  neck  has 
been  tossed  by  the  wind  into  dunes  of  every  fantastic 
and  grotesque  shape  —  round,  truncated,  sugar-loaf, 
turreted,  serrated  —  here  one  with  its  top  sheared 
clean  off,  another  half  disemboweled;  fortunate  for  all 
is  it  that  they  are  covered  with  beach-grass  v/hose  tough, 
fibrous  roots  securely  anchor  them;  otherwise  the  first 
winter  gale  would  lift  them  bodily  and  sift  them  over 
the  marshes.  The  sun  shines  on  the  dunes  from  the 
east,  and  their  white  sides  sparkle  like  diamonds,  in 


Quaint  Old  Barnstable  77 

striking:  contrast  to  the  dark  blue  of  the  sea.  The  vast 
stretch  of  marshes  afiFords  a  stranger  sight.  They  are 
dotted  with  myriads  of  poles  forming  the  frames  of 
hay-ricks,  which  cover  them  by  hundreds. 

Beyond  the  marshes  over  the  Neck  we  can  almost  see 
the  salt  meadows,  where  the  huge  dredges  of  the  Cape 
Cod  Canal  and  Navigation  Company  are  cutting  the 
channel  of  another  national  highway.  It  is  five  miles 
south,  across  the  Cape  to  Vineyard  Sound;  it  is  twenty- 
eight  miles  by  water  to  Provincetown  at  the  extreme 
tip  of  the  tongue,  and  fifty  by  land  —  which  illustrates 
admirably  the  extreme  curvature  of  the  Cape.  The 
ocean  is  quiet  to-day.  The  surf  only  moans  and  sighs, 
with  varying  rhythm.  In  a  northwest  blizzard  it  is 
different;  but  perhaps  before  concluding  we  shall  be 
able  to  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  what  a  "  nor' wester  " 
on  the  Cape  Cod  Coast  is  like. 

We  have  passed  many  pleasant  evenings  this  sum- 
mer in  the  society  of  a  gentleman  of  the  village,  a 
veteran  editor  and  politician,  who  lives  in  a  large, 
square-roofed  house,  filled  from  cellar  to  attic  with 
quaint  furniture  and  mementoes  of  the  past.  In 
1814,  when  the  Barnstable  sloop  Independence  was 
captured  by  the  British  frigate  Nym-ph,  our  friend, 
then  a  lad  of  six  years,  was  on  board,  and  distinctly 
remembers  his  father's  lifting  him  upon  the  taffrail 
of  the  frigate  to  see  the  sloop  burn.  Few  public 
events  have  happened  since  that   the    Major  is  not 


78  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

familiar  with,  and  his  fund  of  anecdote  and  repartee 
is  inexhaustible. 

One  day,  looking  through  his  collection  of  rarities, 
we  came  upon  the  account  of  the  centennial  anniver- 
sary in  1839  of  the  settlement  of  Barnstable,  containing 
letters  and  speeches  from  John  Quincy  Adams,  Harri- 
son Gray  Otis,  Dr.  James  Thatcher,  the  annalist  of 
the  Revolution,  and  other  eminent  men,  natives  of,  or 
associated  with,  the  town.  "We  are  especially  proud 
of  that  centennial,"  said  Major  P.,  "because  at  that 
time  we  first  introduced  and  successfully  established 
the  custom  of  inviting  ladies  to  be  present  on  such 
occasions.  When  the  matter  was  first  proposed,  Mr. 
William  Sturgis,  of  Boston,  a  native  of  Barnstable, 
refused  to  engage  in  it  unless  ladies  should  be  invited. 
The  idea  was  well  received,  and  the  fair  sex  was  well 
represented.  Cliief- Justice  Shaw  was  a  native  of  Barn- 
stable, and  he  and  his  wife  were  present.  Mrs.  Shaw's 
name  was  Hope,  and  I  remember  the  toast  most  widely 
cheered  was  this:  'There  is  Hope  in  the  Judiciary.' 
After  that  it  became  the  custom  to  invite  ladies  to  such 
celebrations.  Shortly  after,  the  opening  of  the  Cunard 
Line  was  celebrated  in  Boston,  to  which  ladies  were 
asked,  and  a  friend  said  to  me:  'You  see  how  quickly 
we  follow  Barnstable's  example.'" 

Old  books,  old  letters,  old  diaries,  old  sermons  were 
here  in  profusion ;  the  latter  were  exceedingly  interesting, 
as  showing  how  boldly  and  effectively  Puritan  clergy- 


Quaint  Old  Barnstable  79 

men  attacked  the  sins  and  follies  of  the  day.  A  ser- 
mon by  the  Rev.  George  Weekes  of  Harwich,  preached 
about  1760,  on  the  sin  of  wearing  periwigs,  contains 
this  ingenious  argument:  "Adam,  so  long  as  he  con- 
tinued in  innocency,  did  wear  his  own  hair  and  not  a 
periwig.  Indeed,  I  do  not  see  how  it  was  possible  that 
Adam  should  dislike  his  own  hair  and  therefore  cut  it, 
that  so  he  might  wear  a  periwig  and  yet  have  continued 
innocent." 

But  for  an  oddity  in  sermonizing,  commend  us  to  a 
sermon  preached  in  Yarmouth,  of  which  the  title-page 
is :  "  Ebenezer,  or  a  Faithful  and  Exact  Account  of  God's 
Great  Goodness  to  Mr.  Ebenezer  Taylor  of  Yarmouth, 
on  Cape  Cod,  who,  on  the  6th  day  of  August,  1726, 
was  buried  alive  about  twelve  feet  deep  under  stones 
and  earth  in  his  own  well,  where  he  lay  for  the  space 
of  eleven  hours,  and  was  afterwards  taken  up  with- 
out any  considerable  hurt;  with  a  suitable  Improve- 
ment of  such  a  Miraculous  Deliverance."  The 
discourse  was  delivered  at  the  meeting-house  before 
a  large  congregation,  and  at  a  certain  stage  Ebenezer 
Taylor,  his  wife,  and  children,  were  called  up  before 
the  people  and  addressed  in  turn.  Here  are  the  heads 
of  the  discourse:  "Introduction.  Chapter  I.,  Nar- 
rative; Chapter  II.,  Remarks  upon  some  passages  in 
the  narrative;  Chapter  III.,  General  improvement  of 
the  narrative.  Reflection,  inference;  Chapter  IV.,  A 
particular  address:  I.,  To  Ebenezer  Taylor;  II.,  To 


80  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

his  wife;  III.,  To  his  children."  It  would  seem  to 
have  been  sufficient  discipline  for  Ebenezer  to  have 
been  buried  for  eleven  hours  in  his  own  or  any  one  else's 
well,  without  being  called  before  the  public  congrega- 
tion and  having  the  occasion  "improved"  to  him,  and 
his  wife,  and  children,  but  they  did  things  differently 
in  those  days. 

Our  old  friend  and  his  relics  are  not  our  only  means 
of  entertainment,  however.  There  is  the  tavern,  and 
there  is  the  circle  about  the  landlord's  fire.  In  1639 
one  Thomas  Lembert  was  licensed  "to  keep  victualing 
or  an  ordinary  for  the  entertainment  of  strangers,  and 
to  draw  wine  in  Barnstable,"  and  I  think  this  hotel  was 
the  one  then  built.  Certainly  it  is  old  enough  for  it. 
The  landlord  —  at  least  the  only  one  I  have  been  able 
to  find  —  is  a  valetudinarian  who  clings  to  the  fire  in 
the  rusty  office  stove,  and  tells  tales  feebly  yet  garru- 
lously of  events  of  seventy  years  ago.  He  has  plenty  of 
company  through  the  summer  evenings  in  other  vet- 
erans, sea-captains  and  mariners,  of  the  days  when 
Barnstable  had  her  great  fishing  fleet  and  coasting 
trade,  and  was  one  of  the  busiest  ports  of  the  Common- 
wealth. Of  storms  and  shipwrecks,  derelicts,  flotsam 
and  jetsam,  big  catches,  sea-serpents,  ice-floes,  and 
boreal  experiences,  their  reminiscences  are  full.  They 
are  happiest  in  nights  of  storm.  I  remember  one  such 
night,  when  a  nor'easter  howled  down  the  chimney 
and  rattled  the  ancient  casements.     The  stove  glowed 


Quaint  Old  Barnstable  81 

dull  red;  the  long  settee  was  piled  with  horse-blankets, 
cape-coats,  sou'westers,  and  other  impedimenta  of  the 
visitors.  A  kerosene  lamp,  swung  over  all,  shone 
dimly,  half  obscured  by  tobacco  smoke;  and  the  drip 
from  the  faucet  of  the  tank  labeled  "Ice- Water"  into 
the  wooden  pail  placed  below  was  equaled  in  monotony 
by  the  steady  tick  of  the  great  eight- day  clock  in  the 
corner.  The  four  wooden  armchairs  were  occupied 
by  the  landlord,  two  ancient  mariners,  and  the  visitor 
"from  York,"  while  the  audience  balanced  themselves 
on  the  edge  of  the  table  or  nestled  amid  the  miscellane- 
ous mass  on  the  settee. 

The  story-tellers  naturally  fell  upon  the  subject  of 
Cape  gales,  and  after  certain  prodigious  feats  of  wind 
and  wave  had  been  narrated,  a  lean  old  salt,  hitherto 
silent,  broke  in  with:  "But  a  nor 'caster  ain't  a  sarcum- 
stance  to  a  nor' wester  —  not  one  that  means  bizness. 
A  nor' wester,  you  see,  comes  without  warnin';  it  pounces 
on  ye,  and  it's  so  cold  ye'd  think  it  ud  cl'ared  the  space 
betwixt  this  an'  the  North  Pole  at  a  leap.  D'yer  mind 
the  blizzard  of  1826,  Cap'n,  wust  ever  known  on  the 
Cape,  an'  the  wreck  of  the  Almira  ?  No  ?  You  was  a 
boy  then.  Wal,  'twas  the  16th  of  January,  'bout  noon. 
I  was  standin'  on  the  bluff  'tother  side  of  Sandy  Neck, 
lookin'  down  on  Sandwich  harbor.  It  ud  be'n  dirty 
weather  fer  days  —  wind  east,  then  south,  snow  fust 
an'  then  rain,  an'  a  fleet  of  coasters  was  huddled  to- 
gether in  the  harbor  waitin'  fair  weather.     That  mornin' 


82  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

the  weather  was  warm  an'  clearin'.  Clouds  scurried 
along  from  the  south,  high  in  air,  an'  bits  o'  blue  shone 
through  the  rifts.  Wal,  I  stood  on  the  hill,  an'  not  a 
furlong  off  was  old  Cephas  Hinckley,  the  saltiest  skipper 
of  that  day.  I  called  to  him,  but  he  didn't  answer  — 
his  eyes  was  closely  follerin'  the  motions  of  a  little 
schooner,  the  Almira,  wood-laden,  belongin'  in  Sand- 
wich, whose  skipper  had  be'n  waitin'  some  days  for  a 
chance  to  git  to  sea  an'  steer  for  Boston.  The  little 
craft  went  along  under  the  light  breeze,  an'  as  she 
cleared  the  p'int,  clapped  on  all  sail  an'  stood  to  nor'ard. 
Captain  Hinckley  raised  his  arms  to  heaven.  '  Gone 
out,'  sez  he  solemnly;  'he'll  never  cum  in  ag'in.'  'An' 
why  not,  Cap'n  ? '  sez  I  at  his  elbow.  '  Why,  man  alive, 
sez  he,  '  can't  you  see  a  terrible  norther  is  brewin'  ? 
He'll  be  triced  up  in  ice  afore  the  first  watch  turns  in, 
an'  a  boomin'  gale  on  a  lee  shore  tew.'  Notwithstandin', 
the  little  Almira  kept  on  with  her  crew  of  three  — 
Josiah  Ellis,  master,  his  son  Josiah,  an'  John  Smith, 
seaman  —  cleared  Manomet  P'int,  an'  with  Plymouth 
light  for  a  beacon  worked  slowly  across  the  outer  bay. 
Up  in  the  nor'west,  half  up  from  the  sea  line,  an'  wi- 
denin'  every  second,  was  a  belt  of  cold,  clear,  steel-blue 
sky;  same  time  the  clouds  that  hed  be'n  hurryin'  north 
all  day  turned  tail  an'  went  scuddin'  into  the  sou'east. 
In  five  minutes  the  storm  struck  'em,  nigh  throwin' 
the  Almira  on  her  beam-ends.  Cold  ?  You've  no 
idea  of  it  except  you've  be'n  thar.     Every  bit  of  mois- 


Quaint  Old  Barnstable  83 

ture  that  wind  touched  froze;  icicles  hung  from  the 
men's  beards.  The  spray  flew  high  over  the  catheads, 
an'  in  twenty  minutes  men,  decks,  spars,  shrouds,  an' 
sails  was  a  mass  of  glitterin',  creakin',  crackin'  ice. 
They  tried  bearin'  up  for  Plymouth  harbor,  but  it  lay 
in  the  eye  o'  the  wind.  They  tacked  once,  twice,  then 
the  main  boom  was  tore  from  the  mast,  the  halyards 
giv'  way,  an'  down  cum  the  icy  mains'l  with  a  crashin' 
and  splinterin'.  To  furl  it  was  impossible.  They  let 
it  he,  an'  laid  the  vessel's  course  to  the  wind,  braced  the 
fores'l  fore  an'  aft,  not  bein'  able  to  haul  it  down,  loosed 
the  jib,  an'  let  her  drive.  The  wind  howled  an'  fought 
the  fores'l,  cracked  its  coverin'  of  ice,  an'  tore  it  in 
shreds;  but  the  jib  held,  an'  give  her  leeway;  so,  to- 
wards mornin',  they  rounded  Manomet  P'int,  an'  cum 
round  into  Barnstable  Bay  ag'in  only  eight  miles  from 
wher'   they  started. 

"At  daybreak  they  passed  their  house,  an'  saw  the 
smoke  curlin'  from  their  own  chimneys;  jist  then,  bein' 
mos'  frozen,  they  lashed  the  helm  an'  went  intew  the 
little  cabin,  hopin'  to  light  a  fire.  The  jib,  their  last 
sail,  soon  hung  in  tatters  from  the  mast,  an'  the  vessel, 
broadside  to  the  blast,  drifted  on,  past  Sandwich,  Barn- 
stable, Yarmouth,  makin'  as  straight  as  though  piloted 
for  that  long  reef  of  rock  that  makes  out  from  Dennis, 
with  a  smooth  beach  on  its  western  side  an'  a  cove  on 
the  east.  By  good  luck  a  seaman  livin'  near  the  reef 
saw  the  Almira  comin'  an'  summoned  help.     A  great 


84  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

crowd  gathered  on  the  shore  end  of  the  reef  —  sailors 
an'  fishermen,  all  used  tew  the  sea.  On  she  dru'v,  no 
one,  to  appearance,  on  board.  At  last  the  crowd  give 
a  mighty  shout,  an'  the  three  men  in  the  cabin  staggered 
on  deck.  'Up  with  your  helm,'  shouted  the  seamen. 
'Make  sail,  an'  round  the  rocks.'  It  was  onpossible. 
The  hulk  was  lifted  like  a  dead  tiling  by  a  mighty 
wave  an'  flung  broadside  on  the  rocks  with  a  crash. 
Still  she  hung  together,  an'  the  crew  huddled  on  the 
quarter  abaft  the  binnacle,  which  was  not  swept  by 
the  waves.  The  seamen  tried  to  launch  a  boat  through 
the  surf,  which  was  heavy  with  'sludge,'  but  it  filled 
an'  was  drawn  back  with  the  wash.  Captain  Ellis  now 
went  for'ard  an'  sot  down  on  the  win'lass,  bein'  over- 
come with  the  drowsiness  of  death.  '  Rise  up,  rise  up, 
an'  stir  yourself,'  the  men  shouted.  'We'll  save  ye 
yet!'  Not  one  but  knew  what  the  Captain's  drowsi- 
ness meant.  But  Ellis  was  already  benumbed,  an' 
was  soon  devoured  by  the  sea.  Smith  soon  followed 
the  Captain's  example,  an'  was  swept  away.  Mean- 
time the  boat  was  launched,  but  when  it  got  to  the 
wreck  the  tide  had  fallen  so  low  that  they  couldn't 
reach  the  ship,  which  was  popped  up  on  the  reef,  an' 
they  had  to  wait  for  the  rise.  That  cum'  about  four 
o'clock,  an'  the  men  scrambled  on  board  an'  took 
off  Josiah,  the  Cap's  son,  though  his  hands  was  frozen 
to  the  tiller-ropes,  an'  he  didn't  know  anything.  He 
got  well,  but  he  lost  both  hands  an'  his  feet." 


CHAPTER  XII 

NANTUCKET   STORIES 

THERE  is  here  and  there  in  Nantucket  a  mansion 
that  impresses  one  as  being  of  the  patrician 
order.  The  one  we  have  in  mind  stands  on  the  corner  of 
a  principal  street,  with  well-kept  lawns  and  gardens 
in  the  rear,  a  house  that  has  entertained  General  Grant 
and  President  Arthur,  with  many  men  distinguished  in 
other  walks  of  life.  Its  owner  is  a  retired  merchant,* 
one  of  those  who  forty  years  ago  made  this  isolated  isle 
known  and  respected  to  the  remotest  corners  of  the 
earth.  He  began  his  business  career  in  1832,  as  ship- 
builder, and  sent  out  many  craft  that  were  the  pride  of 
the  seas.  In  1839,  as  our  Consul  at  New  Zealand,  he 
threw  to  the  breeze  the  first  American  flag  ever  hoisted 
there.  When  the  gold  fever  broke  out  in  1849  he  sent 
his  ship  around  the  Horn  to  San  Francisco,  and  him- 
self performed  the  journey  overland,  enduring  all  the 
hardships  incident  to  the  way.  He  owned  the  first 
tea  ship  that  entered  the  port  of  Foochow  after  it  was 
opened  to  commerce  in  1854.  One  of  his  last  ventures, 
of  which  a  pleasant  chapter  might  be  made,  was  his 
'  The  late  F.  C.  Sanford. 


86  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

journey  to  London  and  then  to  Paris  in  1855,  where 
he  chartered  to  the  French  Government  the  ship  Great 
Republic,  then  the  largest  vessel  in  the  world,  to  be 
used  as  a  transport  in  the  Crimean  war.  The  ship 
took  at  one  voyage  3,300  horses,  with  officers  and  artil- 
lery, and  earned  $184,000  for  her  owners  in  fourteen 
months. 

The  reminiscences  of  such  a  man  can  but  be  of  the 
greatest  interest. 

"I  dare  say  you  never  knew  that  the  history  of  this 
Island  is  linked  with  that  of  the  famous  tea  party  in 
Boston  Harbor,"  he  remarked  one  evening  as  we  drew 
our  chairs  before  a  fire  of  glowing  red  coal  in  his  library. 
"It  was  in  this  way.  In  the  June  of  1773  William 
Rotch  liad  two  stanch  vessels  —  the  Beaver  and  Dart- 
mouth, old  whalers  —  lying  idle  at  his  docks,  and  one 
day,  closeted  in  his  counting-room,  he  chartered  them 
to  a  stranger  from  Boston  to  proceed  to  England  for  a 
cargo  of  the  East  India  Company's  tea.  That  com- 
pany had  just  been  granted  a  monopoly  of  the  tea  trade 
of  the  colonies,  and  having  decided  on  sending  consign- 
ments to  the  four  principal  colonial  ports,  needed  quite 
a  fleet  for  the  purpose.  Perhaps,  too,  they  thought  the 
tea  would  be  received  with  better  grace  coming  in 
American  bottoms.  At  least  an  agent  of  the  Boston 
consignees  was  despatched  to  Mr.  Rotch  at  Nantucket. 
Naturally,  he  was  glad  to  charter  to  so  powerful  a  cor- 
poration, and  the  Beaver  and  Dartmouth  were  speedily 


Nantucket  Stories  87 

got  ready  for  sea.  The  story-tellers  make  a  point  here 
that  the  commander  of  the  Beaver  on  this  voyage 
was  Nathan  Coffin,  the  famous  whahng  captain  of 
Nantucket,  whom  Bancroft  afterward  cited  as  an  ex- 
ample of  the  indomitable  spirit  of  the  patriots  of  '76. 
Coffin,  they  say,  at  the  opening  of  the  war  was  home- 
ward bound  from  a  whaling  cruise,  and  was  taken  by 
one  of  His  Majesty's  cruisers,  whose  captain  offered 
him  liberty  on  condition  that  he  served  his  King. 
"Hang  me  to  your  yardarm  if  you  will,"  replied  the 
intrepid  tar,  "  but  don't  ask  me  to  become  a  traitor  to 
my  country." 

The  name  of  William  Rotch  often  occurs  in  the 
Island's  Records.  He  was  a  leading  merchant  on  the 
island  for  some  years  before  the  Revolution.  During 
the  war,  like  most  of  the  islanders,  he  remained  neutral, 
with  the  result  of  being  plundered  by  both  parties. 
After  the  war,  commerce  being  prostrate  in  America, 
he  sought  the  British  court  and  petitioned  the  King 
to  offer  a  bounty  on  whale  oil,  that  the  business  might 
be  prosecuted  from  English  ports.  "And  what  will 
you  give  me  for  the  privilege  ^ "  "  I  will  give  Your 
Majesty  the  young  men  of  my  native  island."  The 
merchant,  however,  found  little  sympathy  with  his 
project  in  England,  and  proceeded  to  France,  where 
he  met  with  better  success.  Louis  XVI.  granted  him 
a  subsidy,  and  he  established  himself  at  Dunkirk, 
where  he  prosecuted  the  business  with  considerable 


88  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

success,  sending  the  first  whaler  into  the  Pacific  that 
ever  ventured  those  waters;  and  as  most  of  the  officers 
and  men  who  manned  his  ships  were  of  Nantucket, 
he  Hterally  fulfilled  his  promise  of  giving  his  patron 
the  young  men  of  his  native  island.  Mr.  Rotch  spent 
the  last  years  of  his  life  at  New  Bedford,  and  aided 
largely  in  building  up  the  important  whaling  interests 
of  that  port. 

The  Nantucket  whale  fishery  had,  as  has  been 
shown,  a  small  beginning.  Her  sailors  were  among 
the  first  to  venture  into  the  icy  waters  of  Baffin's  Bay 
and  Davis  Straits.  In  1745  a  vessel  was  loaded  with 
oil  by  Nantucket  merchants  and  sent  direct  to  England. 
Several  years  before  the  Revolution  her  hardy  seamen 
had  ventured  into  the  South  Atlantic.  In  1775  the 
port  had  a  fleet  of  150  vessels,  manned  by  2,025  seamen, 
which  brought  to  her  warehouses  30,000  barrels  of 
sperm  and  4,000  barrels  of  whale  oil  annually.  Dur- 
ing the  Revolution  few  vessels  were  sent  to  the  cruising 
grounds,  and  for  a  whole  generation  succeeding  there 
was  little  revival  of  the  old  spirit  of  enterprise.  In 
1818,  however,  without  any  special  predisposing  cause, 
the  business  all  at  once  assumed  its  old  vigor.  In  1821 
this  little  island,  with  a  population  of  barely  7,000,  had 
seventy-two  whale  ships  in  commission,  aggregating 
22,000  tons  burden,  besides  quite  a  fleet  of  brigs, 
schooners,  and  sloops.  In  1842  the  business  culmi- 
nated, eighty-six  ships  and  two  brigs  and  schooners  then 


Nantucket  Stories  89 

forming  its  whaling  marine.  It  is  to  this  period  that 
most  of  the  tales  told  in  the  captain's  room  relate. 
Half  a  score  of  ice-battered,  oil-blackened  old  hulks 
unloading  on  its  piers  at  once  was  no  uncommon  sight 
in  those  days.  As  many  more  would  be  taking  in 
stores.  In  eight  long  candle  factories  the  snow-white 
spermaceti  was  fashioned.  Eight  hundred  coopers, 
blacksmiths,  riggers,  and  stevedores  went  down  to  the 
docks  every  morning.  When  a  vessel  out  at  sea  mak- 
ing the  harbor  w^as  sighted  there  was  commotion  in  the 
little  port.  In  the  rear  of  the  post-oflSce  was  a  tall 
flagstaff,  on  which  a  blue  flag,  bearing  the  word  "  Ship," 
in  large  letters,  was  displayed.  Owners,  captains,  sea- 
men, women,  and  cliildren  —  every  one  who  had  a 
venture  on  the  deep  —  then  gathered  to  speculate  as 
to  which  of  the  port's  eighty-two  vessels  the  incoming 
ship  might  be,  the  extent  and  value  of  her  catch,  and 
whether  her  crew  was  as  complete  and  sound  in  limb 
as  when  she  left  the  harbor.  Meantime  the  "camels" 
were  steaming  out  to  the  harbor  bar.  This  contri- 
vance was  in  reality  a  floating  dry-dock,  used  for  lifting 
vessels  over  the  bar,  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor.  It 
was  moved  by  steam,  and,  when  signaled,  proceeded 
to  the  bar,  was  sunk,  the  vessel  was  towed  within,  and 
the  water  being  pumped  from  the  camel,  the  latter  rose 
with  the  ship  in  its  embrace,  and  propelled  itself  and 
its  burden  over  the  bar. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Nantucket's  first  tea-party 

/'^NE  autumn  day  my  friend  invited  me  to  drive 
^"-^  across  the  island  to  Maddequet,  a  fishing  hamlet 
on  the  East  Coast.  The  drive  was  a  pleasant  one  in 
itself  —  among  farms,  over  wide  heaths  gay  with 
golden-rod  and  the  scarlet  berries  of  the  meal  plum 
vine,  then  along  the  romantic  shores  of  Long  Pond, 
and  finally  to  the  head  of  the  little  harbor  on  which 
stands  Maddequet.  The  interest  of  the  drive  to  us 
was  greatly  enhanced  by  the  recollections  of  our  friend. 
Every  mossy  farmhouse  and  quaint  old  country-seat 
along  the  way  recalled  reminiscences,  all  tending  to 
establish  the  ethnological  importance  of  the  island.  In 
truth,  considering  its  position,  Nantucket  has  been 
wonderfully  prolific  of  great  men  and  women.  Among 
the  first  families  on  the  island  were  the  Macys.  The 
Folgers  are  another  noteworthy  race.  The  only  child 
of  "Peter  Ffoulger,"  born  after  his  removal  from 
Martha's  Vineyard  to  Nantucket,  was  Abiah,  who  in 
her  young  maidenhood  removed  to  Boston  and  married 
Josiah  Franklin,  the  tallow  chandler.  Her  fifteenth 
child  by  this  marriage  was  Benjamin  Franklin,  the 


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Nantucket's  First  Tea-Party  91 

philosopher.  The  mother  in  talent  and  worth  is  said 
to  have  been  every  way  worthy  of  her  illustrious  son. 
Another  member  of  this  family  was  Charles  J.  Folger, 
former  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  who  was  born  in 
Nantucket,  in  a  house  which  stood  on  the  site  of  the 
present  Sherburne  House,  on  Orange  Street.  The 
Coffins,  famous  in  naval  annals,  are  a  numerous  family 
on  the  island.  Lucretia  Mott  was  born  at  Nantucket 
in  1793.  Phoebe  A.  Hanaford  is  a  native  of  Siasconset, 
Gen.  George  N.  Macy,  of  the  late  war;  the  Rev.  Dr. 
F.  C.  Ewer,  of  New  York;  the  Mitchells,  mathemati- 
cians and  astronomers,  and  scores  of  other  men  and 
women  who  have  gained  honorable  positions  in  the 
professions. 

Maddequet  contains  little  of  interest  to  the  average 
tourist.  There  are  fishing  boats  drawn  up  on  the 
beach,  nets  drying  in  the  sun,  bronzed  and  bearded 
fishermen  lounging  about,  whose  talk  is  of  the  blue- 
fish,  scup,  eels,  herring,  lobsters,  and  clams  which  form 
the  objects  of  their  daily  pursuit.  It  was  the  first  point 
of  settlement,  Thomas  Macy  spending  the  winter  of 
1659  here,  and  for  a  century  it  continued  to  be  the 
residence  of  some  of  the  best  families  of  the  island. 
Of  these  were  the  Starbucks,  who  lived  in  a  fine  old 
country  house  a  little  outside  of  the  village,  in  which, 
in  1745,  pretty  Ruth  Wentworth  and  a  certain  Captain 
Morris,  of  Boston,  owner  of  a  China  tea  ship,  made  the 
first  cup  of  tea  ever  brewed  in  Nantucket. 


92  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

"The  Starbucks  have  figured  largely  in  our  annals 
as  merchants,  ship  owners,  and  sea  captains,"  said  my 
friend.  They  were  Friends  in  religious  belief.  At 
the  time  of  which  I  speak  the  family  consisted  of 
Grandpa  and  Grandma  Starbuck,  Nathaniel,  their 
son,  his  wife  Content,  their  son  Nathaniel,  Jr.,  absent 
on  a  voyage  to  Cliina,  Esther,  a  maiden  sister,  and 
Ruth  Wentworth,  a  niece,  whose  parents  had  emigrated 
to  Vermont  a  year  before,  leaving  her  in  charge  of  her 
uncle  and  aunt  Starbuck.  Ruth  Wentworth  was  a 
charming  maiden  of  eighteen,  petite  in  form,  with 
deep-blue  eyes  and  golden  hair,  attractions  to  which 
her  Quaker  simplicity  and  modesty  gave  additional 
charm.  One  day  in  December  the  household  was 
thrown  into  confusion  by  a  letter  from  the  sailor  son, 
dated  at  Boston,  saying  that  his  ship  was  in  port,  and 
that  he  should  be  home  in  time  to  see  the  New  Year  in. 
He  added  that  he  had  sent  his  sea  chest  —  containing 
a  box  of  tea  for  his  mother  and  some  trinkets  for  Ruth 
—  by  the  vessel  which  bore  his  letter,  and  that  he 
should  bring  as  his  guest  a  dear  friend,  Captain  Morris, 
of  Boston,  owner  of  the  vessel  in  which  he  had  sailed. 
The  chest  came  presently,  and  as  appears  from  time- 
stained  letters  still  retained  in  the  Starbuck  family, 
created  quite  an  excitement  in  the  hamlet.  It  was 
the  first  tea  ever  known  on  the  island.  Rumors  of  a 
fragrant  herb  which  had  been  introduced  into  Boston 
and  had  met  with  great  favor  there  were  rife,  but  no 


Nantucket's  First  Tea-Party  93 

one  had  seen  the  curiosity,  and  all  the  neighbors 
gathered  in  the  great  Starbuck  kitchen  to  see  the  box 
opened,  and  taste  and  smell  of  its  contents.  The 
guests  were  expected  on  the  last  day  of  the  year,  and  it 
was  decided  to  have  a  New  Year's  tea-party,  and  at 
the  same  time  watch  the  Old  Year  out  and  the  New 
Year  in  —  a  custom  still  observed  in  many  country 
districts.  Aunt  Content  and  grandma.  Aunt  Esther 
and  little  Ruth  were  all  busy.  The  pantry  shelves 
fairly  groaned  with  the  load  of  goodies  cooked  for  the 
occasion;  the  great  parlor,  which  had  not  been  used 
since  Aunt  Mehitabel's  wedding,  was  opened;  the  floor 
newly  waxed  and  polished,  and  spread  with  beautiful 
mats  and  rugs,  found  in  Cousin  Nathaniel's  chest. 
Jude,  the  slave  girl,  rubbed  the  fender  and  great  and- 
irons of  the  fireplace  until  they  shone,  while  Ruth 
looped  back  the  chintz  curtains,  placed  a  bouquet  of 
autumn  leaves  and  scarlet  berries  on  the  mantel,  dis- 
posed the  stiff  wooden  chairs  a  little  less  primly,  and 
arranged  the  rugs  and  mats  where  their  colors  blended 
harmoniously,  stopping  at  intervals  with  her  head  on 
one  side  and  her  hands  in  the  pockets  of  her  house- 
keeper's apron  to  view  the  general  effect.  Aunt  Esther 
did  not  look  with  favor  on  these  proceedings.  'Sho', 
child,'  she  admonished,  'I  fear  thee  is  too  much  taken 
with  these  vanities;  the  bright  things  of  this  world  are 
of  short  duration';  but  grandma  interposed  with  her 
voice  of  authority,  and  said  it  was  natural  and  right  for 


94  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

the  young  to  admire  beauty.  At  length  the  day  came. 
Uncle  Edward  Starbuck  and  his  family,  and  Lieutenant 
Macy's  family,  were  invited  to  meet  the  distinguished 
guest.  Ruth  dressed  early  to  receive  the  visitors.  I 
have  seen  a  letter  in  which  she  described  her  costume, 
a  new  blue  gown,  with  lace  in  the  neck  that  grandma 
had  given  her,  her  mother's  gold  necklace,  and  her 
golden  curls  tied  back  with  a  blue  ribbon  that  grandma 
had  bought  in  London.  Coming  into  the  kitchen  from 
her  toilet,  she  found  Aunt  Content,  Aunt  Edward  Star- 
buck,  and  Mrs.  Lieutenant  Macy,  all  at  their  wits' 
end  over  the  problem,  how  to  cook  and  serve  the  tea. 
Mrs.  Lieutenant  Macy  said  she  had  heard  it  ought  to 
be  well  cooked  to  be  palatable,  and  Aunt  Starbuck 
observed  that  a  lady  in  Boston  who  had  drunk  tea 
said  it  needed  a  good  quantity  for  steeping,  which  was 
the  reason  it  was  so  expensive.  The  result  was  that 
Aunt  Content  hung  the  bright  five-gallon  bell-metal 
teapot  on  the  crane,  put  in  a  two-quart  bowlful  of  tea 
with  plenty  of  water,  and  left  Aunt  Esther  and  Lydia 
Ann  Macy  to  watch  and  see  that  it  boiled.  Presently 
Ruth,  who  happened  into  the  hall,  heard  Lydia  say: 
'I  have  heard  that  when  tea  is  drunk  it  gives  a  bril- 
liancy to  the  eyes  and  youthful  freshness  to  the  com- 
plexion. I  am  fearful  thy  sister-in-law  failed  to  put 
in  a  sufficient  quantity  of  leaves';  so  Aunt  Esther 
added  another  bowlful.  When  the  tea  had  boiled  an 
hour   Cousin   Nathaniel   and   his   friend   the   captain 


Nantucket's  First  Tea-Party  95 

came.  The  captain  was  tall  and  lithe,  with  dark  hair 
and  tawny  beard,  and  Ruth  thought  she  had  never 
seen  a  man  so  noble-looking.  Meantime  the  tea  had 
been  boiled  down  until  only  a  gallon  remained  in  the 
kettle,  when  it  was  poured  into  grandma's  large  silver 
tankard  and  placed  on  the  table;  a  silver  porringer, 
with  cream  and  lumps  of  sugar,  was  placed  beside  each 
guest's  plate.  When  dinner  was  announced,  the  cap- 
tain took  out  Miss  Ruth,  much  to  the  annoyance  of 
Aunt  Esther,  who  subsequently  gave  her  niece  a  private 
lecture  on  the  impropriety  of  young  girls  putting  them- 
selves forward.  After  the  blessing  Mrs.  Content  said, 
hesitatingly:  'I  have  brewed  a  dish  of  tea,  but  am 
fearful  I  have  not  prepared  it  as  it  hath  need,  and 
would  ask  your  opinion.'  Cousin  Nathaniel  sniffed 
and  sipped,  and  then  answered : '  As  my  mother  desires 
my  opinion  I  must  needs  say  that  a  spoonful  of  this 
beverage  which  she  has  prepared  for  us  with  such 
hospitable  intent  would  nearly  kill  any  one  of  us.' 
Captain  Morris  remarked  that  his  hostess  would  keep 
the  decoction  for  dyeing  her  woollens,  and  said  he 
would  show  her  how  to  make  tea.  'And  this  young 
lady,'  he  added,  turning  to  Ruth,  'shall  brew  the  first 
dish  of  the  beverage  ever  made  in  Nantucket.' 

"  Dinner  over,  the  captain  and  Ruth  went  out  into  the 
great  kitchen  to  make  the  tea.  He  took  Uncle  Nat's 
large  gray  stone  pitcher  and  put  into  it  as  much  tea  as 
he  could  hold  between  thumb  and  finger  for  each  guest, 


96  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  an  additional  pinch  for  the  pitcher,  poured  on 
boiUng  water  sufficient  for  all;  then  Ruth  raked  out 
the  coals  in  the  wide  fireplace  and  it  was  set  on  them 
until  it  came  to  a  gentle  boil.  When  the  tea  had  boiled, 
it  was  poured  into  the  tankard  and  served  to  the  guests 
in  silver  porringers,  with  cream  and  sugar.  All  pro- 
nounced it  delicious,  and  to  Ruth  it  seemed  like  nectar. 
But  the  tea-party  had  its  sequel,  and  that  was  the  mar- 
riage a  few  weeks  later  of  the  captain  and  Ruth  Went- 
worth.  I  mention  the  matter  because  the  story  is  only 
half  told  without  it." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SHIPS   AND    SAILOKS   OF   NANTUCKET 

/'~\NE  stormy  autumn  evening  as  we  drew  our  chairs 
^-^  to  the  fire  our  friend  became  particularly  ani- 
mated in  his  descriptions.  "I  was  born  in  1809,"  he  ob- 
served. "The  brightest  days  of  Nantucket  witliin  my 
recollection  were  between  the  years  1820  and  1845.  The 
busiest  one  day  that  I  remember  was  in  November, 
1827,  when  seventy- two  vessels  passed  Brant  Point 
Light,  outward  bound,  some  to  the  Pacific  on  a  three- 
years'  whaling  voyage,  some  to  the  coast  of  Chili  for 
seals,  thence  to  China  for  teas,  others  oil-laden  to  Lon- 
don, to  Havre,  to  the  Hague,  and  to  almost  every  port 
on  the  Atlantic  coast  and  West  Indies.  You  who  see 
the  port  in  its  decadence  can  have  little  idea  of  the 
scene  of  activity  it  then  presented.  A  thousand  work- 
men hurried  down  to  the  docks  of  a  morning.  The 
sound  of  hammer  and  adze  began  at  sunrise,  and  ceased 
only  at  sunset.  The  multitudinous  din  of  the  docks 
continued  often  the  night  through.  I  love  to  stand 
now  on  the  wharves  where  the  huge,  oil-blackened 
hulls  of  the  whalers  once  swung,  and  recall  the  scene. 
Heavy   timbered    three-storied   warehouses   filled    the 


98  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

heads  of  the  wharves,  beside  which  half  a  hundred 
vessels  would  lie,  discharging  or  taking  in  cargo. 
Overhead  were  the  sail-lofts,  with  the  riggers  and 
sailmakers  busy  sewing  the  white  canvas  or  shaping 
spars.  Then  there  were  the  blacksmiths'  shops, 
where  the  ironwork  for  the  ships  and  the  tools  used 
in  fishing  were  made;  and  the  coopers'  shops,  that 
turned  out  their  hundreds  of  butts  and  casks  per 
day,  and  the  huge  rope- walks,  seven  in  number, 
where  men  spun,  walking  to  and  fro,  all  the  cordage 
used  in  ship-building  and  for  repairs.  It  was  indeed 
a  busy  scene. 

"  We  built  our  own  ships,  too,  in  those  times.  Brant 
Point  was  lined  with  ship-yards,  and  there  were  ship- 
ways,  where  we  took  up  sliips  for  repairs.  Some 
famous  vessels  we  turned  out  —  stout,  oak-bowed 
whalers,  clipper  ships,  and  fleet  schooners  that  would 
run  down  to  Havana  and  be  back  with  a  cargo  of  fruit 
in  less  than  no  time.  There  was  the  Rose,  built  in  1803, 
one  of  the  fastest  sailers  afloat.  Coming  down  the 
China  Sea  in  one  of  her  voyages  (in  charge  of  the  mate, 
the  captain  having  died  in  China),  she  was  taken  by  a 
British  frigate  and  carried  to  Mauritius,  and  afterwards 
used  by  John  Bull  for  a  despatch  boat,  or  in  any 
capacity  where  speed  was  a  requisite.  Then  came  the 
Charles  Carroll,  built  by  myself  and  partners,  and  our 
ship  Lexington,  in  1836.  Next  the  Nantucket,  built 
by  H.  G.  O.  Dunham,  of  live  oak  and  copper-fastened 


Ships  and  Sailors  of  Nantucket  99 

—  a  crack  ship,  as  was  the  Joseph  Starbuck,  turned 
out  of  our  yards  in  1838. 

"The  Bedford,  however,  was  Nantucket's  bravest 
ship.  I  have  the  last  receipt  for  her  cabin  work,  given 
William  Rotch  in  1772.  She  made  several  voyages  and 
then  went  out  of  commission,  laid  up  by  the  war  of  the 
Revolution.  Seven  years  she  lay  with  her  bowsprit  up 
in  what  is  now  J.  B.  Macy's  store.  By  and  by,  in  1782, 
the  Ship  Maria,  Captain  Mooers,  just  off  the  stocks 
at  Scituate,  came  in  to  refit.  As  she  did  so,  Mr.  Rotch 
got  news  from  London  that  the  preliminary  articles  of 
peace  would  soon  be  signed,  and  at  the  same  time 
learned  that  a  cargo  of  oil  delivered  in  London  at  that 
time  would  'make  a  strike.'  The  Maria  wasn't  ready, 
so  he  hauled  down  the  Bedford,  loaded  her,  put  Captain 
Mooers  in  command,  and  she  sailed  for  London,  and 
arrived  there  February  7,  1780,  with  488  butts  of  oil  in 
her  hold,  as  this  manifest  in  my  hand  states.  Well, 
the  pith  of  the  story  is,  that  this  ship  was  the  first  to 
fly  the  American  flag  in  England.  It  appears  by  a 
letter  from  William  Rotch,  Jr.,  that  she  arrived  in  the 
Downs  February  23,  the  day  of  the  signing  of  the  pre- 
liminary treaty  of  peace  between  the  United  States, 
France,  and  England,  and  hearing  of  this  displayed  in 
London  the  first  United  States  flag.  The  colors  caused 
the  Admiralty  no  little  vexation  and  debate  as  to  whether 
she  should  be  admitted  or  not.  In  London  the  Bed- 
ford and  her  flag  made  the  sensation  of  the  day,  and 


100  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

scores  of  people  visited  the  ship  to  inspect  the  new 
piece  of  bunting. 

"The  dim  interiors  of  those  old  warehouses  often 
recur  to  me  as  I  walk  the  wharves.  Always  fragrant, 
always  mysterious  from  the  strange  store  of  old-world 
treasures  and  commodities  they  held.  Cassia  and 
sandalwood,  liquorice,  spices  of  India  and  Ceylon,  tea- 
chests  covered  with  strange  hieroglyphics,  puncheons 
of  Jamaica,  rare  old  Madeira  in  butts,  fabrics  of  Persia 
and  India,  boxes  of  pure  white  spermaceti,  Arabian 
coffee,  bales  of  whalebone  and  cotton  —  a  boy  might 
have  learned  of  the  products  of  the  whole  earth  by 
studying  our  world  in  miniature.  And  what  a  multi- 
tude of  clerks,  factors,  and  stevedores  was  necessary 
to  the  handling  of  this  great  body  of  merchandise  — 
for  Nantucket  was  a  great  distributing  as  well  as  receiv- 
ing port  then  —  the  products  that  came  to  us  in  ex- 
change for  our  seal  oil  and  bone  being  reshipped  to  all 
our  domestic  ports  and  also  abroad.  The  trade  created 
a  special  model  of  swift  and  graceful  vessels  called 
coasters,  two  or  three  of  which  were  always  to  be  seen 
lying  in  the  docks  taking  in  cargo.  But  those  old  days 
are  gone,"  concluded  my  friend  with  a  sigh.  "This 
picture  that  we  old  people  see  as  we  walk  about  the 
wharves  will  never  be  visible  again  to  the  outward 
sense." 

"I  have  some  quaint  fancies  while  looking  into  my 
sea-coal  fire,"  he  observed  on  another  occasion.  "  About 


Ships  and  Sailors  of  Nantucket  101 

ships,  now  —  I  love  to  think  of  them  as  having  an 
individuality  like  men.  Some  are  prosperous,  you 
know,  and  some  never  earn  their  owners  a  penny. 
Some  achieve  fame,  others  have  it  thrust  upon  them; 
some  are  continually  meeting  squalls  and  hurricanes, 
and  others  float  on  as  uneventfully  as  some  human 
lives. 

"I  have  known  many  famous  ships  in  my  day,  and 
have  heard  gossip  of  others.  One  of  General  Grant's 
gifts  from  the  people  of  San  Francisco  was  a  cane 
turned  from  the  portion  of  the  rudder  post  of  the  old 
ship  John  Jay,  which  was  dismantled  and  her  hulk 
burned  in  San  Antonio  creek  some  years  since.  This 
vessel  is  said  to  have  conveyed  Franklin  to  France  in 
1776  as  ambassador  from  the  United  States. 

"At  Monterey  again  one  may  see  at  low  tide  the 
timbers  of  a  sunken  ship  — the  wreck  of  the  brig  Natalie, 
the  very  ship  on  which  Napoleon  the  Great  made  his 
escape  from  the  Island  of  Elba,  just  before  the  final 
collapse  of  his  empire  at  Waterloo.  The  Natalie 
brought  to  California  in  1834  the  colony  of  Huyas  from 
their  home  in  Mexico,  to  be  settled  on  the  frontiers  of 
Sonoma  County.  They  grew  homesick,  however,  on 
arriving  in  sight  of  their  new  home,  and  forced  the  Cap- 
tain to  return  with  them  to  Monterey,  where  the  Natalie 
was  wrecked  as  she  was  entering  the  harbor. 

"Within  the  Golden  Gate  at  San  Franciso,  I  saw 
in  the  year  1852  a  tliousand  ships,  few  of  which  ever 


102  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

went  to  sea  again.  They  were  mostly  old  vessels, 
chartered  in  the  East  to  bring  flour  to  hungry  miners, 
and  were  either  condemned  on  arriving  at  San  Fran- 
cisco, or  left  to  decay,  or  to  be  broken  up  for  firewood 
and  old  metal.  Perhaps  you  will  relish  a  little  gossip 
about  them.  There  was  the  Cadmus,  which  brought 
Lafayette  to  this  country  in  1824;  the  General  Jackson 
and  Balance,  two  ships  taken  by  James  De  Wolfe's 
privateer,  True-Blooded  Yankee,  in  the  war  of  1814. 
The  latter  ship  was  near  100  years  old.  Both  were 
built  in  Calcutta  of  teak  timber,  and  the  Balance  had  the 
same  masts  in  her  which  were  put  in  in  Calcutta  almost 
a  century  before.  There  was,  too,  the  celebrated  Lady 
Amherst,  an  English  whaler  of  repute,  belonging  to 
Samuel  Enderby  &  Sons  of  London,  which  in  six  con- 
secutive voyages,  with  an  average  time  of  thirty-four 
months  each,  obtained  16,000  barrels  of  sperm  oil  — 
a  catch  never  equaled  by  any  ship  from  our  own  ports. 
There  also  entered  the  port  Thomas  H.  Perkins's  splen- 
did clipper  Nile  of  Boston  from  China,  laden  with 
silks,  teas,  and  frankincense  (sandalwood),  seeking  a 
market  first  among  the  Peruvians.  There  were  also 
the  Martha,  a  London  packet  from  Nantucket  in  1809; 
Montana,  a  French  packet  from  New  York  in  1824; 
the  Henry  Astor,  one  of  John  Jacob  Astor's  famed 
Northwest  fur  traders  to  China;  the  Deucalion,  Hi- 
bernian, and  Ontario  of  the  Liverpool  packets,  the 
Niantic,  Goodhue  &  Co.'s  China  ship  from  New  York, 


Ships  and  Sailors  of  Nantucket  103 

which  was  moved  up  into  the  center  of  the  city,  and 
was  for  a  long  time  a  famous  hotel;  the  Friendship  of 
Salem,  once  cut  off  by  the  Malays,  to  chastise  whom 
our  Government  sent  out  the  frigate  Potomac  under 
Commodore  Downes  in  1832;  the  Morrison,  one  of 
Stephen  Girard's  famous  tea  ships;  the  Palladium,  one 
of  Thorndike's  ships  of  Boston,  with  scores  of  others, 
thrown  aside  in  the  scramble  for  gold. 

"A  great  many  old  ships  went  to  form  the  stone 
blockade  of  Charleston,  S.  C,  in  1862,  when  the  Anglo- 
rebel  privateers  made  fearful  havoc.  Among  the  in- 
teresting old  ships  was  the  Barclay,  built  in  1794  for 
William  Rotch  &  Sons  by  George  Claghorn,  the  same 
who  built  the  frigate  Constitution.  The  Barclay  was  gal- 
lantly cut  out  of  Callao  from  under  the  guns  of  the  Span- 
ish fortifications  in  1813  by  Commodore  David  Porter, 
then  commanding  the  frigate  Essex,  with  our  famous 
Farragut  at  that  time  a  midshipman  under  him.  After 
an  eventful  career  she  was  broken  up  at  New  Bedford 
in  1864.  Also  the  ship  Canada,  famous  in  her  day 
when  in  the  Liverpool  trade  for  making  her  passage 
from  New  York  to  Liverpool  in  from  thirteen  to  sixteen 
days,  and  delivering  General  Jackson's  messages  in 
Liverpool  as  promptly  as  steamers  do  others  in  these 
days.  This  ship  was  seized  by  the  Brazilian  Govern- 
ment while  ashore  near  Pernambuco  in  1856,  and  has 
since  been  paid  for,  costing  that  Government  $100,000. 

"Among  ships  none  were  fleeter  or  more  graceful 


104  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

than  the  American  clippers.  With  their  sharp  trim 
hulls  and  top-hamper  spread  and  swelling  to  the  breeze, 
they  were  the  most  beautiful  of  ocean  racers,  the  pride 
and  joy  of  the  merchant's  heart.  The  clippers  origi- 
nated in  Baltimore  in  the  war  of  1812,  having  been  con- 
structed first  as  privateers.  After  the  war  they  were 
put  in  the  Rio  Janeiro  and  Valparaiso  trade  from  that 
city.  The  ships  Corinthian  and  Ann  McKim  were  the 
most  famous  of  this  fleet,  the  latter  once  making  the 
passage  from  Valparaiso  to  Baltimore  in  fifty-eight 
days.  The  Coriiithian  was  broken  up  at  Stonington, 
Conn.,  in  1847,  and  the  McKim  at  San  Francisco  in 
1853.  In  1842  Warren  Delano  came  from  China  and 
built  the  ship  Memnon  in  Smith  &  Diamond's  yard. 
New  York,  who  were  famous  shipbuilders  in  that  day. 
She  was  the  best  ship  I  ever  saw  in  every  particular, 
and  after  sailing  the  sea  for  twelve  years  was  lost  in 
1854  with  a  cargo  of  2,000,000  pounds  of  tea  for  London, 
for  which  she  was  to  have  had  $70,000  freight. 

"Very  soon  the  English  began  to  build  clippers,  and 
then  there  was  international  rivalry  and  racing.  Large 
space  in  the  newspapers  of  the  day  was  devoted  to 
accounts  of  the  voyages  of  the  splendid  clippers  that 
plied  between  New  York  and  London,  New  York  and 
San  Francisco,  New  York  and  China,  and  England 
and  China.  The  Sea  Witch,  Capt.  Robert  Waterman, 
made  the  shortest  China  passage  —  seventy-four  days 
—  from  Hong  Kong  to  New  York,  beating  his  own 


Ships  and  Sailors  of  Nantucket  105 

previous  time  in  the  ship  Natchez  by  four  days.  The 
Flying  Cloud,  built  by  Donald  McKay,  at  East  Boston 
in  1851,  made  the  passage  from  Sandy  Hook  light  to 
San  Francisco  in  eighty-nine  days  twenty-one  hours  — 
the  shortest  on  record.  On  his  return,  however,  Cap- 
tain Cressy  beat  his  own  record,  reaching  San  Francisco 
in  eighty-nine  days  nineteen  hours. 

"In  May,  1856,  five  English  clippers  started  from 
China  for  a  race  to  London.  The  affair  excited  great 
interest  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  The  ships  en- 
gaged were  the  Ariel,  853  tons,  the  Fiery  Cross,  G89 
tons,  the  Taeping,  767  tons,  the  Taitsing,  815  tons, 
and  the  Sirica,  708  tons.  They  were  laden  with  the 
first  of  the  season's  teas,  and  an  additional  freight  of 
ten  shillings  per  ton  was  promised  the  first  ship  arriv- 
ing in  dock,  hence  the  competition. 

"The  Sirica,  Ariel,  and  Taeping  passed  Foochow 
Bar  for  London  on  the  same  day,  May  30.  The  Fiery 
Cross  sailed  the  day  before,  and  the  Taitsing  the  day 
after.  The  next  heard  of  them  was  at  Angier,  Straits 
of  Sunda,  as  follows:  'Fiery  Cross  passed  through  on 
the  19th  of  June,  the  others  on  the  22d,  all  within  a 
few  hours  of  each  other,  running  the  distance  from 
Foochow  —  2,780  miles  —  in  twenty-three  days.'  The 
next  was  this  bit  of  ship  news  from  London:  'Yester- 
day, September  21,  1856,  Lloyd's  agent  telegraphed 
the  arrival  of  three  of  the  ships  in  the  Downs. 
They  are  expected  at  Blackwell  to-day.     Up  to  late 


106  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

last  evening  no  news  had  been  received  of  the  Fiery 
Cross  or  the  Taitsing.'  The  distance,  14,060  miles, 
was  run  in  ninety-nine  days,  an  average  of  141  miles 
a  day,  and  the  vessels  ran  almost  neck  and  neck  the 
whole  passage." 


CHAPTER  XV 

AN   ANTI-SLAVERY    PIONEER 

ANOTHER  evening  my  friend  produced  an  an- 
cient, time-worn  pamphlet,  whose  full  title  I 
found  to  read: 

"A  testimony  against  that  anti-Christian  practice 
of  making  slaves  of  men,  wherein  it  is  showed  to  be 
contrary  to  the  dispensation  of  the  Law  and  Time  of 
the  Gospel,  and  very  opposite  both  to  Grace  and 
Nature.     By  Elihu  Coleman,  printed  in  the  year  1733." 

"I  suppose  it  to  be,"  he  remarked,  "one  of  the 
earliest,  as  well  as  most  earnest  and  fearless,  denuncia- 
tions of  human  slavery  ever  published.  Its  author, 
Elihu  Coleman,  was  a  minister  of  the  Society  of  Friends 
(born  on  Nantucket,  December,  1699,  died  here  Janu- 
ary, 1789),  and  an  able  and  fearless  preacher  here  for 
nearly  the  whole  of  his  career.  Beginning  with  his 
day,  the  island  continued  very  hostile  to  the  institution 
to  the  end.  The  Friends  were  the  dominant  sect  on 
Nantucket  in  those  days,  and  their  injfluence  was 
always  exerted  against  slavery.  The  famous  Prince 
Boston  case,  you  remember,  made  Massachusetts  a 
free  State,  and  Prince  Boston  was  a  Nantucket  slave. 


108  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

His  owner,  Elisha  Folger,  had  for  some  reason  shipped 
him  and  sent  him  out  in  Mr.  Rotch's  whale-ship.  On 
arrival  home  he  claimed  and  received  as  his  own 
Prince's  share  in  the  voyage.  But  in  1780,  while  the 
ship  was  absent,  the  Constitution  of  Massachusetts 
was  adopted,  and  Mr.  Rotch,  on  reading  it,  at  once  saw 
that  it  abolished  slavery;  at  least  he  determined  to 
make  a  test  case  of  it.  Pretty  soon  Prince's  ship  came 
in,  and  Mr.  Folger  applied  for  his  slave's  'voyage.' 
'Thee  has  no  voyage  here,'  said  Mr.  Rotch  calmly, 
making  Folger  as  hot  as  a  South  Carolinian  —  so  wroth 
that  he  sued  in  the  courts,  and  a  famous  case  it  became; 
he  lost  his  suit,  and  not  only  Prince  Boston,  but  4,700 
other  slaves  in  Massachusetts,  were  set  free. 

"We  had  an  exciting  fugitive  slave  case  in  1822. 
There  were  several  runaway  slaves  from  Virginia  living 
here  and  at  New  Bedford  at  the  time,  supporting  them- 
selves and  their  families,  owning  little  freehold  proper- 
ties, when  suddenly  one  Camillus  Griffith  appeared 
and  demanded  their  surrender  as  escaped  slaves  of 
certain  parties  living  near  Alexandria,  Va.  Griffith  in 
his  sworn  statement  before  the  court  gives  so  clear  and 
succinct  a  statement  of  the  proceedings  at  Nantucket 
that  I  quote  him: 

'"On  my  arrival  at  Boston,'  he  says,  'I  addressed  a 
respectful  memorial  to  Judge  Davis  of  the  United 
States  District  Court,  enumerating  the  slaves  I  was  in 
pursuit  of,  and  praying  him  to  grant  a  process  for  their 


An  Anti-Slavery  Pioneer  109 

apprehension.  Being  unsuccessful  in  this  respect  from 
the  defect  in  the  law  of  1793,  I  requested  Judge  Davis 
to  state  his  objections,  which  you  will  find  on  the  back 
of  the  memorial.  I  then  appealed  to  Colonel  Harris,  the 
Marshal  of  Massachusetts,  for  one  of  his  deputies,  and 
proceeded  to  the  Island  of  Nantucket,  where  we  found 
the  family  of  negroes  belonging  to  Mr.  David  Ricketts, 
and  were  in  the  act  of  removing  them  when  a  large 
assemblage  of  persons  collected  round  the  house,  and 
seemed  to  set  us  at  defiance.  I  remonstrated  with 
them  on  the  course  they  were  pursuing,  and  stated  to 
some  of  the  leading  men  in  the  mob  that  I  had  arrested 
these  slaves  under  a  law  of  the  United  States;  and  to 
satisfy  the  people  of  Nantucket  that  the  course  we  were 
pursuing  was  legal,  we  had  brought  the  Deputy  Marshal 
with  us.  A  man  calling  himself  Francis  G.  Macy 
insisted  that  if  we  had  any  authority  it  should  be  pro- 
duced, and  as  he  seemed  to  have  the  most  influence 
with  the  mob,  I  produced  the  power  of  attorney  of  Mr. 
Ricketts.  Before  I  commenced  reading  it  I  placed 
Mr.  Taylor,  with  two  men,  at  the  back  part  of  the  house, 
to  prevent  the  negroes  from  escaping.  Mr.  Taylor 
did  not  remain  there  long.  The  threats  of  the  mob 
alarmed  him,  and  on  his  retiring  to  join  me  in  the 
front  part  of  the  house,  I  was  informed  that  Thomas 
Mackerel  Macy  put  his  Quaker  coat  and  hat  on  George, 
and  assisted  him  and  his  wife  and  children  out  of  the 
window  and  carried  them  off  to  a  place  of  greater 


110  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

security.  While  these  things  were  going  on,  and  I 
was  engaged  with  the  party  in  front  of  the  house,  one 
man,  Sylvenus  Macy,  observed  that  the  power  of  attor- 
ney of  Ricketts  might  be  a  forgery,  and  afterwards  said 
there  was  no  doubt  that  it  was  a  forgery,  and  also 
observed :  "  We  were  not  in  Virginia  now,  but  in  Yankee 
town  —  that  they  wanted  those  colored  people  to  man 
their  whale  ship  and  would  not  suffer  them  to  be  carried 
back  to  bondage."  He  was  proceeding  in  this  manner 
and  with  other  abusive  language  when  the  arrival  of 
Sig.  Folger  was  announced,  who  I  understood  had 
been  sent  for.  His  first  inquiry  was  where  the  slaves 
were,  and  F.  G.  Macy  answered,  "We  have  them  in  our 
possession  and  they  are  now  in  the  house."  Folger 
then  observed  to  me  that  the  laws  of  this  State  did  not 
recognize  any  persons  as  slaves,  and  if  I  attempted  to 
molest  these  people  or  remove  them,  he  should  consider 
it  his  duty  as  a  magistrate  to  arrest  me  and  my  party. 
I  then  informed  Mr.  Folger  that  I  had  arrested  these 
people  as  slaves,  who  had  run  away  from  a  gentleman 
in  Virginia,  and  that  the  law  of  the  United  States 
authorized  the  arrest,  and  called  upon  him  as  a  magis- 
trate to  suppress  the  mob,  and  allow  us  to  bring  the 
negroes  before  him  or  suffer  Mr.  Bass,  the  Deputy 
Marshal,  to  take  them  to  Boston  before  Judge  Davis 
for  trial.  I  also  asked  Mr.  Folger  if  he  did  uot  con- 
sider the  State  laws  of  Massachusetts  subordinate  to 
the  laws  of  the  United  States.     His  answer  was  "No," 


An  Anti-Slavery  Pioneer  111 

and  that  if  we  attempted  to  molest  these  people  any 
further,  he  would  put  us  all  in  jail.' 

"Remark  the  manliness  and  pure  grit  of  those  old 
magistrates  and  freemen,  defying  the  power  of  the 
whole  national  Government,  then  wielded  by  slave- 
holders, for  the  protection  of  the  weak  and  helpless, 
and  driving  the  spoiler  off  without  his  prey  —  for 
Griffith,  finding  the  men  of  Nantucket  so  defiant  and 
threatening,  relinquished  his  quest  and  set  sail  for 
New  Bedford.  There  he  fell  into  more  desperate 
straits  at  the  hands  of  those  sturdy  Quakers,  Thomas 
Rotch  and  William  W.  Swain,  being  thrown  into 
prison,  and  after  many  hardships  missing  his  object  as 
he  had  in  Nantucket." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   SEA   FIGHT   OFF   MADDEQUECHAM 

"  TT  was  out  there  it  happened,  one  fine  October  morn- 
-■■  ing  in  1814,"  said  our  friend,  pointing  out  to  sea. 
We  had  had  a  glorious  ride  that  September  afternoon 
and  now  drew  rein  on  the  summit  of  one  of  the  round- 
topped  hills  looking  down  on  Maddequecham  Pond, 
and  on  the  racing  surf  thundering  beyond. 

"That  war  of  1812,"  he  continued,  "was  pretty 
much  all  a  sea  fight,  and  it  does  my  heart  good  to  recall 
now  and  then  how  handsomely  we  whipped  John  Bull 
on  his  own  ground.  There  were  several  pretty  sea- 
fights  off  our  eastern  coast  in  that  war.  The  Consti- 
tution and  Guerriere  off  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  the 
Enterprise  and  Boxer  off  Portland  harbor,  will  at  once 
recur  to  you,  but  here  on  the  south  side,  perhaps  four 
miles  from  town,  as  gallant  an  action  as  any  of  them 
was  fought,  of  which  no  mention  whatever  is  made  in 
the  books.  Cooper,  even,  in  his '  Naval  History,'  has  no 
account  of  it. 

"  One  mellow  October  day  of  that  year  — 1814  — 
the  town  was  startled  by  the  news  that  an  American 
privateer  brig  was  off  the  south  shore  with  a  large 


The  Sea  Fight  off  Maddequecham  113 

British  frigate  in  pursuit,  and  scores  of  people  streamed 
over  the  downs  to  watch  the  chase  and  possible  battle. 
They  saw  not  only  the  privateer,  but  a  large  ship,  her 
prize,  lying  abreast  of  Maddequecham  Pond,  and  away 
off  to  the  southwest  a  large  frigate  in  sight,  hull  down 
and  nearly  becalmed  in  the  light  breeze  playing  from 
northward.  A  concise  account  of  the  affair  and  of  the 
events  preceding  it  is  given  in  the  marine  columns  of 
the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser  of  October  17,  1814,  evi- 
dently taken  from  the  privateer's  log-book.  I  quote: 
'July  4.  Sailed  from  Cherbourg  .  .  .  Made  in  all 
fifteen  captures,  many  of  them  in  the  British  and  Irish 
channels;  burnt  and  scuttled  most  of  them.  Among 
others,  September  6,  captured  ship  Douglas,  of  and 
for  Liverpool  from  Demerara,  cargo,  rum,  sugar,  cotton, 
and  coffee,  420  tons,  in  latitude  41^°,  longitude  45°. 
Kept  company  with  the  Douglas,  made  Nantucket  9th 
inst.,  in  company.  On  the  11th,  Nantucket  bearing 
N.  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  discovered  a  frigate 
off  Gay  Head,  which  gave  chase  and  came  up  with  a 
fresh  breeze,  while  we  were  becalmed.  At  three  p.m. 
we  got  the  breeze  and  took  the  Douglas  in  tow,  the 
frigate  then  about  four  leagues  from  us.  At  sunset  it 
died  away  calm.  At  seven  p.m.  was  obliged  to  come 
to  anchor,  and  supposing  the  frigate  would  send  her 
boats  to  attempt  to  capture  us,  prepared  accordingly. 
At  eight  P.M.  signal  was  made  from  the  prize  that 
the  boats  were  coming.     Soon  after  discovered  them, 


114  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

five  in  number,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were 
alongside.' 

"The  attacking  boats  carried  104  men,  to  whom  the 
Prince  of  Neufchdtel  could  oppose  but  38.  A  launch 
containing  48  men  was  sunk  by  the  privateer's  first  fire, 
and  only  2  men  were  saved.  Two  boats'  crews  at- 
tempted to  board  at  the  bows,  but  were  swept  away, 
all  except  the  leader,  the  Second  Lieutenant  of  the 
Endymion,  who  walked  the  whole  length  of  the  privateer 
amid  his  foes  unrecognized,  and  jumped  through  the 
port  into  his  own  boat.  Then  the  privateer's  men 
poured  their  fire  into  the  boats  alongside.  In  twenty 
minutes  the  fight  was  over.  Three  boats  drifted  away 
from  the  brig,  every  man  killed.  The  other  was  cap- 
tured, and  of  her  thirty-six  men  eight  were  found  to 
be  killed,  twenty  wounded,  and  only  eight  unhurt. 
The  privateer,  too,  had  suffered.  Of  her  thirty-eight 
men  six  were  killed  and  twenty-one  wounded.  The 
dead  were  buried  on  shore;  the  wounded  were  brought 
to  town,  and  taken  to  Mr.  Edward  Dixon's  on  Cross 
Wharf,  and  to  Obed  Pinkham's  house  on  Broad  Street, 
where  our  women  attended  them.  I  remember  steal- 
ing in  with  the  surgeons  when  they  came,  and  watching, 
with  eyes  as  big  as  saucers,  the  bullets  extracted  from 
the  wounds. 

"A  day  or  two  later  a  launch  came  up  the  harbor 
filled  with  officers  in  their  grand  uniforms,  the  crew 
pulling  with  man-of-war  precision,  sent  from  the  En- 


The  Sea  Fight  off  Maddequecham  115 

dymion  to  look  after  her  wounded  people.  I  happened 
to  be  in  the  room  when  I  heard  them  coming  up  the 
narrow  stairs,  their  scabbards  clanking,  and  fled  with 
the  women  to  the  pantry,  scared  at  such  company.  I 
gained  courage  to  peep  out  before  they  departed,  how- 
ever, and  one  rolled  this  bullet  to  me  across  the  floor, 
and  told  me  to  keep  it  as  a  memento  of  the  fight.  It 
was  a  sad  affair  for  the  Endymion  —  her  First  Lieu- 
tenant and  a  master's  mate  killed,  the  Third  Lieutenant, 
two  master's  mates,  and  one  midshipman  wounded, 
33  men  killed,  37  wounded,  and  30  prisoners.  Well 
might  her  Captain  —  Hope  —  complain  that  he  had 
suffered  as  badly  as  though  engaged  with  a  frigate  of 
equal  calibre. 

"  Ordronaux,  the  httle  French  Captain  of  the  Neuf- 
chdtel,  seems  to  have  been  a  veritable  Hotspur.  He 
declared  that  if  he  could  get  the  men  to  man  his  brig, 
he  would  take  the  Endymion  in  the  cove  where  she  lay. 
No  doubt  he  had  the  requisite  pluck,  but  it  would  have 
been  foolhardy,  unless  by  surprise,  for  the  Endymion 
was  a  forty-gun  frigate  with  a  broadside  of  twenty-fours, 
and  notwithstanding  her  severe  losses  had  quite  men 
enough  left  to  man  her  batteries.  This  old  frigate, 
the  Endymion,  well  deserves  to  be  classed  among  the 
historic  ships  of  the  British  Navy,  Three  months 
later,  January  15,  1815,  she  sustained  a  desperate  fight 
with  the  President,  frigate.  Commodore  Decatur,  off 
Sandy  Hook.     She  got  the  worst  of  it,  the  President 


116  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

being  a  heavier  sliip,  and  probably  would  have  been 
obliged  to  strike  her  colors  but  for  the  arrival  of  her 
consorts,  when  the  President  was  captured  and  both 
ships  were  sent  to  Bermuda.  Before  reaching  that 
port,  however,  both  were  dismasted  in  a  gale,  and  the 
Endymion  came  near  foundering,  being  obliged  to 
throw  overboard  all  her  upper-deck  guns." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A   TYPICAL   NANTUCKET   MERCHANT 

/'^NE  evening,  calling  on  my  friend,  I  found  him 
^-^  poring  over  a  mouldy  account-book,  among 
whose  dates  as  he  turned  the  leaves  I  caught  that  of 
1765.  "It  came  from  the  counting-room  of  William 
Rotch,"  said  he,  "a  merchant  deserving  of  more  re- 
membrance than  he  is  likely  to  receive  from  this  genera- 
tion. We  had  great  men  in  those  days  and  down  to 
1849-50,  men  whose  services  in  creating  and  extend- 
ing x\merican  commerce  cannot  be  too  highly  com- 
mended. The  Rotches,  Coffins,  and  Mitchells  were 
giants  of  the  former  time,  and  the  Starbucks,  Macys, 
Folgers,  and  Gardners  of  the  latter.  But  of  all,  William 
Rotch  was  easily  chief.  I  consider  him  the  greatest 
merchant  of  colonial  days.  He  was  of  Quaker  parent- 
age, born  here  October  4,  1734,  and  entered  about 
1754  his  father's  West  India  business,  and  before  1773 
founded  with  his  brothers  Joseph  and  Francis  the  house 
of  Joseph  Rotch's  Sons,  with  branches  in  New  Bedford 
and  London,  and  an  extensive  trade  with  the  other 
colonies,  the  West  Indies,  and  the  mother  country. 
"The  commodity  most  largely  dealt  in  by  the  firm 


118  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

was  whale  oil ;  it  had  many  vessels  in  the  whale  fishery, 
and  the  product  shipped  to  England  found  a  ready 
market  there.  In  return,  the  vessels  brought  all  man- 
ner of  commodities,  which  the  firm  distributed  in  its 
small,  swift-sailing  schooners  to  the  Southern  colonies 
and  the  West  Indies.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  in  due 
process  of  this  trade  the  peace-loving  Quakers  became 
active  agents  in  precipitating  a  frightful  and  bloody 
struggle.  In  this  old  book  in  my  hand,  under  date  of 
1773,  occurs  this  entry:  'Invoice  of  182  casks  white 
sperm  oil  shipped  by  William  Rotch,  on  board  the 
ship,  Dartmouth,  Joseph  Rotch,  master,  for  Lon- 
don, on  account  and  risk  of  the  sliipper,  and  goes  con- 
signed to  Champion,  Dickinson  &  Co.,  merchants 
there.  This  vessel  was  one  of  those  from  which  the 
tea  was  emptied  into  Boston  harbor  a  few  months 
later.'  On  reaching  London  with  this  cargo  she,  with 
the  Beaver,  also  owned  by  the  Rotches,  and  a  tliird 
ship,  the  Eleanor,  was  chartered  by  the  East  India 
Company  to  convey  to  Boston  the  objectionable  teas 
wliich  led  to  the  famous  tea-party  in  Boston  harbor 
in  December,  1773. 

"When  the  war  finally  came,  the  people  looked  to 
Mr.  Rotch  as  the  leading  man  of  the  island  for  counsel 
and  protection.  He  at  once  declared  for  a  strict  neu- 
trality as  being  not  only  good  policy,  but  in  accordance 
with  the  principles  of  the  Friends,  which  the  majority 
of  the  islanders  professed.     But  this  course  seemed  to 


A  Typical  Nantucket  Merchant  119 

arouse  the  ill-will  of  both  parties,  and  the  little  com- 
munity was  soon  harassed  with  depredations  from  the 
armed  vessels  of  the  British  and  Tories  on  the  one  hand 
and  of  the  patriots  on  the  other.  In  his  autobiography, 
which  I  have  here,  written  at  the  age  of  eighty,  he  gives 
a  graphic  account  of  one  of  these  Tory  descents.  On 
another  occasion  several  sloops  of  war  and  a  number 
of  transports  were  in  sight  of  the  island  three  days, 
intending  to  make  a  descent  upon  it.  'Nothing  short 
of  the  interposition  of  Divine  Providence  preserved  us 
from  apparent  ruin,'  says  Mr.  Rotch.  'They  were  in 
sight  of  us  in  the  day  time  three  days  near  Cape  Poge 
(Martha's  Vineyard).  They  got  under  Avay  three 
mornings  successively,  and  stood  for  the  island  with  a 
fair  wind,  wliich  each  morning  came  round  against 
them,  and  the  tide  too  came  round  against  them,  which 
obliged  them  to  return  to  their  anchorage  still  in  view 
of  us.  Before  they  could  make  the  fourth  attempt, 
orders  came  for  their  return  to  New  York  for  some 
other  expedition.  A  solemn  time  indeed  it  was  to  us. 
Messengers  were  arrivinoj  one  after  another,  and  twice 
I  was  called  up  in  the  night  with  the  disagreeable  in- 
formation that  they  were  at  hand.' 

"  Twice  he  visited  the  British  camp  —  once  at  New- 
port, and  once  at  New  York  —  to  induce  the  British 
Commander  to  grant  the  island  a  protection  from 
British  cruisers  and  armed  vessels.  He  was  successful 
in  both  cases,  but  for  the  act  was  haled  before  a  com- 


120  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

mittee  of  the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts  on  a 
charge  of  treason  —  a  law  having  passed  that  body 
making  it  high  treascm  for  any  person  to  visit  a  British 
port  without  its  consent.  Mr.  Rotch  was  indicted  be- 
fore that  tribunal,  but  not  found  guilty,  and  the  charge 
was  finally  dropped. 

"A  mission  to  Congress,  near  the  close  of  the  war, 
for  a  permit  to  allow  the  whaling  vessels  of  Nantucket 
to  go  out,  in  which  he  was  successful  after  a  five  weeks' 
struggle,  completed  the  merchant's  efforts  on  behalf 
of  Nantucket  during  the  war.  At  the  close  of  the 
struggle  he  found  all  the  conditions  of  trade  and  in- 
dustry changed.  The  chief  product  and  staple  of  trade 
of  Nantucket  had  been  whale  oil.  But  now  England, 
the  chief  oil  market  of  the  world,  in  revenge  for  the  loss 
of  her  colonies,  laid  a  duty  of  eighteen  pounds  per  ton 
on  all  oil  brought  to  her  market  by  aliens.  In  conse- 
quence Nantucket  oil,  that  had  sold  at  thirty  pounds 
before  the  war,  now  dropped  to  seventeen.  It  cost 
twenty-five  pounds  to  produce  it,  as  the  merchants  and 
ship-owners  found  after  a  few  years'  trial,  and  Mr. 
Rotch  decided  to  remove  to  England  and  prosecute 
the  fishery  from  there.  Not  meeting  with  much  en- 
couragement from  the  English  Court,  he  crossed  to 
France,  and  under  the  protection  of  Louis  XVI.  and  a 
bounty  from  the  Government  established  his  son  Ben- 
jamin in  the  fishery  at  Dunkirk.  He  then  returned 
to  Nantucket,  but  four  years  later,  in  1790,  voyaged 


A  Typical  Nantucket  Merchant  121 

with  his  family  to  Dunkirk,  called  thither  by  business 
interests. 

"During  this  second  visit  to  France  he  figured  in  an 
episode  of  historical  importance  from  the  light  which  it 
threw  on  some  of  the  actors  in  the  French  revolution. 
The  revolution  had  been  two  years  in  progress  when 
early  in  1791  he,  with  his  son  Benjamin  and  John 
Marsillac,  appeared  before  the  French  National  As- 
sembly at  Paris  to  present  a  petition  to  that  body  for 
certain  privileges  and  exemptions  connected  with  their 
religious  principles.  They  asked,  first,  that  they  might 
not  be  compelled  to  take  arms  and  kill  men  under  any 
pretense;  second,  that  their  simple  registers  of  births, 
marriages,  and  deaths  might  be  deemed  sufficient  to 
legalize  their  marriages  and  births,  and  authenticate 
their  deaths,  and  third,  that  they  might  be  exempted 
from  the  takino;  of  oaths.  Mirabeau  was  President  of 
the  Assembly,  and  previous  notice  that  this  'Quaker 
petition '  was  to  be  presented  had  drawn  at  the  appointed 
hour  every  member  in  town  and  more  spectators  to  the 
galleries  than  could  be  accommodated.  Brissot  de  War- 
ville,  the  traveler,  and  several  other  members  came  to 
the  petitioners'  lodgings  to  accompany  them  to  the 
chamber.  'But,'  said  one,  as  they  were  about  setting 
out,  'you  have  no  cockades;  you  must  put  them  on.' 
'No,'  said  the  Quaker,  'we  cannot;  it  is  contrary  to 
our  principles  to  wear  a  distinguishing  badge.'  '  But,' 
they  urged, '  it  is  required  by  law,  to  prevent  distinctions. 


122  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

that  people  may  not  be  abused,  for  their  lives  are  in 
danger  without  them';  referring  to  the  mob  through 
which  it  was  necessary  to  pass  to  gain  the  doors  of  the 
Assembly.  Rotch  and  his  friends  replied  calmly  that 
they  could  not  do  it,  that  they  must  go  as  they  were  and 
submit  to  what  might  befall  them.  'We  set  out,'  says 
Mr.  Rotch, '  with  no  small  apprehension,  but  we  trusted 
in  that  power  which  can  turn  the  hearts  of  men  as  a 
watercourse  is  turned.'  You  can  fancy  the  spectacle 
these  drab-coated  disciples  of  peace  presented  as  they 
pushed  through  the  mob  that  then  governed  Paris. 

"*We  passed  through  the  great  concourse,'  Mr. 
Rotch  continues,  'without  interruption  and  reached 
the  waiting-room  of  the  Assembly.  A  messenger  in- 
formed the  President,  and  we  were  immediately  called 
to  the  bar.  John  Marsillac  read  the  petition  with 
Brissot  at  his  elbow  to  correct  him  in  his  emphasis, 
which  he  frequently  did,  unperceived,  I  believe,  by  all 
except  ourselves.  At  the  close  of  every  subject  there 
was  a  general  clapping  of  hands,  the  officers  endeavor- 
ing to  hush  them.  The  hushing,  I  thought,  was  hissing, 
from  my  ignorance  of  the  language,  and  apprehended 
all  was  going  wrong  until  better  informed.  After  the 
reading  was  concluded  Mirabeau  rose.  "Quakers," 
said  he,  "who  have  fled  from  persecutors  and  tyrants 
cannot  but  address  with  confidence  the  legislators  who 
have  for  the  first  time  in  France  made  the  rights  of  man- 
kind the  basis  of  law,  and  France  now  reformed,  France 


A  Typical  Nantucket  Merchant  123 

in  the  bosom  of  peace,  which  she  will  always  consider 
herself  bound  to  revere,  and  which  she  wishes  to  all 
nations,  may  become  another  happy  Pennsylvania.  As 
a  system  of  pliilanthropy  we  admire  your  principles. 
They  remind  us  that  the  origin  of  every  society  was  a 
family  united  by  its  manners,  its  affections,  and  its 
wants,  and  doubtless  those  would  be  the  most  sublime 
institutions  wliich  would  renew  the  human  race,  and 
bring  them  back  this  primitive  and  virtuous  original. 
The  examination  of  your  principles  no  longer  concerns 
us.  We  have  decided  on  that  point.  There  is  a  kind 
of  property  no  man  would  put  into  the  common  stock, 
the  emotions  of  his  soul,  the  freedom  of  his  thought. 
In  this  sacred  domain  man  is  placed  in  a  hierarchy  far 
above  the  social  state.  As  a  citizen  he  must  adopt  a 
form  of  government,  but  as  a  thinking  being  the  uni- 
verse is  his  country.  As  principles  of  religion  your 
doctrines  will  not  be  the  subject  of  our  deliberations. 
The  relation  of  every  man  to  the  Supreme  Being  is 
independent  of  all  political  institutions.  Between  God 
and  the  heart  of  man,  what  Government  would  dare  to 
interfere  ?  As  civil  maxims,  your  claims  must  be  sub- 
mitted to  the  discussions  of  the  legislative  body.  We 
will  examine  whether  the  forms  you  observe  in  order  to 
certify  births  and  marriages  be  sufficient  to  authenticate 
those  descents  which  the  divisions  of  property,  inde- 
pendent of  good  manners,  render  indispensable.  We 
will  consider  whether  a  declaration  subject  to  the  penal- 


124  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

ties  against  false  witnesses  and  perjury,  be  not,  in  fact, 
an  oath.  Worthy  citizens,  you  have  already  taken  that 
civic  oath  which  every  man  deserving  of  freedom  has 
thought  a  privilege  rather  than  a  duty.  You  have  not 
taken  God  to  witness,  but  you  have  appealed  to  your 
consciences;  and  is  not  a  pure  conscience  a  heaven 
without  a  cloud  ?  Is  not  that  part  of  a  man  a  ray  of 
divinity  ?  You  also  say  that  one  of  your  religious  tenets 
forbids  you  to  take  up  arms  or  to  kill  a  man  under  any 
pretense  whatever.  It  is  certainly  a  noble  philosophical 
principle  which  thus  does  a  kind  of  homage  to  humanity, 
but  consider  well  whether  defense  of  yourselves  and 
your  equals  be  not  also  a  religious  duty.  You  would 
otherwise  be  overpowered  by  tyrants.  Since  we  have 
procured  liberty  for  you  and  for  ourselves,  why  should 
you  refuse  to  preserve  it .''  Had  your  brethren  in  Penn- 
sylvania been  less  remote  from  the  savages,  would  they 
have  suffered  their  wives,  their  children,  their  parents, 
to  be  massacred  rather  than  resist  ?  And  are  not  stupid 
tyrants  and  ferocious  conquerors  savages  ?  The  Assem- 
bly in  its  wisdom  will  consider  all  your  requests,  but 
whenever  I  meet  a  Quaker  I  will  say,  '  My  brother,  if 
thou  hast  a  right  to  be  free,  thou  hast  the  right  to  pre- 
vent any  one  from  making  thee  a  slave.  As  thou  lovest 
a  fellow-creature,  suffer  not  a  tyrant  to  destroy  him ;  it 
would  be  killing  him  thyself.  Thou  desirest  peace,  but 
consider,  weakness  invites  war.  General  resistance 
would  prove  an  universal  peace."" 


A  Typical  Nantucket  Merchant  125 

"Many  adventures  and  hair-breadth  escapes  were 
met  with  by  the  staid  Friends  in  that  time  of  terror,  not 
a  few  of  them  caused  by  the  steadfastness  with  which 
they  clung  to  their  religious  convictions  and  observances. 
Mr.  Rotch  returned  to  America  in  1794,  and  eventually 
settled  in  New  Bedford,  dying  in  1828  at  the  age  of 
ninety-four." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   SEA   KINGS   OF   NANTUCKET 

"  13URKE  has  described  them,"  remarked  my  friend 
'*-'  on  another  evening,  recurring  to  his  favorite 
topic,  the  sea.  "The  men  I  have  been  thinking  of  all 
day  —  the  sea  captains  of  Nantucket.  You  remember 
that  famous  speech  of  his  before  Parliament  —  one  of 
his  best  —  in  which  he  pleaded  the  cause  of  the  Ameri- 
can Colonies. 

"Pass  by  the  other  parts,"  he  says,  "and  look  at  the 
manner  in  which  the  people  of  New  England  have  of 
late  carried  on  the  whale  fishery.  While  we  follow 
them  among  the  tumbling  mountains  of  ice,  and  behold 
them  penetrating  into  the  deepest  frozen  recesses  of 
Hudson  Bay  and  Davis  Straits  —  while  we  are  looking 
for  them  beneath  the  Arctic  Circle,  we  hear  that  they 
have  pierced  into  the  opposite  region  of  polar  cold  — 
that  they  are  at  the  Antipodes,  and  engaged  under  the 
frozen  serpent  of  the  South.  Falkland  Island,  which 
seemed  too  remote  and  romantic  an  object  for  the  grasp 
of  national  ambition,  is  but  a  stage  and  resting-place 
in  the  progress  of  their  victorious  industry.  Nor  is  the 
equinoctial  heat  more  discouraging  to   them  than  the 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  127 

accumulated  winter  of  both  the  poles.  We  know  that 
while  some  of  them  draw  the  line  and  strike  the  harpoon 
on  the  coast  of  Africa,  others  pursue  their  gigantic  game 
along  the  coast  of  Brazil.  No  sea  but  is  vexed  by  their 
fisheries;  no  climate  that  is  not  witness  to  their  toils. 
Neither  the  perseverance  of  Holland  nor  the  activity 
of  France,  nor  the  dexterous  and  firm  sagacity  of  Eng- 
lish enterprise,  ever  carried  this  most  perilous  mode  of 
hardy  industry  to  the  extent  to  which  it  has  been  pushed 
by  this  recent  people  —  a  people  who  are  still,  as  it 
were,  but  in  the  gristle,  and  not  yet  hardened  into  the 
bone  of  manhood." 

That  refers  exclusively  to  Nantucket  men,  for  they 
were  the  only  ones  who  at  that  day  had  shown  such 
enterprise  in  the  whale  fishery. 

"  There  were  a  lot  of  splendid  shipmasters  just  pass- 
ing off  the  stage  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  I  must  say  they 
seemed  to  me  in  character,  enterprise,  and  lofty  de- 
meanor fully  equal  to  all  I  had  heard  related  of  their 
daring  and  enterprise.  Knights-errant  of  the  world 
they  were,  roaming  from  zone  to  zone  and  pole  to  pole, 
discovering  new  islands,  mapping  out  unknown  seas, 
grappling  the  hugest  game,  meeting  and  mingling  with 
all  peoples,  you  can  imagine  the  stories  they  told,  and 
of  their  fascination  for  a  boy  of  twelve.  I  never  forgot 
any,  but  the  China  and  India  voyages  interested  me 
most,  especially  those  to  Pondicherry,  a  remote  port 
in  India  belonging  to  the  French.     I  suppose  because 


128  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

they  recalled  the  exploits  of  Hastings  and  the  great 
Clive.  I  am  in  the  mood  for  speaking  briefly  of  a  few. 
"The  greatest  family  of  island  shipmasters  was  the 
Wests.  They  were  descended  in  part  from  the  noble 
Ichabod  Paddock,  who  removed  to  Nantucket  late  in 
1600,  by  invitation,  to  teach  the  people  how  to  catch 
whales.  Charles  West  married  a  descendant  of  this 
great  whaleman.  They  had  a  son  Stephen,  who  was 
master  of  a  ship  as  early  as  1802.  Stephen  was  one  of 
the  most  successful  of  our  shipmasters.  He  was  a 
bosom  friend  of  the  great  merchant  Jacob  Barker;  they 
were  boys  together;  in  fact,  Jacob  has  told  me  that 
Captain  West  gave  him  his  first  start  in  life.  I  saw  the 
former  in  1850,  in  his  eighty-fifth  year,  at  the  Captain's 
death-bed,  asking  him  what  he  could  do  for  him  in  such 
a  tender,  pathetic  spirit  that  I  forgave  Mr.  Barker  all 
he  had  omitted  to  do  for  his  friend  in  life.  In  1790 
Captain  West  commenced  his  career  as  a  South  sea 
whale  fisherman,  and  continued  in  it  until  1798,  when 
the  French  troubles  compelled  its  suspension.  In  1800, 
however,  he  was  away  as  First  Lieutenant  of  the  Oneida, 
a  twenty-gun  ship,  bound  on  a  voyage  to  China,  via 
Cape  Horn  and  the  Marquesas  Islands,  where  she 
expected  to  lay  in  her  cargo  of  seal  skins.  The  Oneida 
was  absent  seventeen  months,  and  returned  with  a  rich 
cargo  of  teas,  silks,  and  nankeens,  so  profitable  that  it 
was  talked  of  in  the  counting-rooms  of  all  our  ports. 
Whaling  was  just  then  reviving.     The  ship  Johti  Jay, 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  129 

then  in  the  China  trade,  was  purchased,  and  Mr.  West 
went  out  in  her  as  first  officer  on  a  voyage  to  Brazil 
Banks.  On  his  return,  Seth  Russell  &  Sons  of  New 
Bedford  offered  him  command  of  the  Dolphin,  in 
which  he  sailed  on  a  whaling  voyage  to  the  South  Seas. 
She  registered  but  130  tons,  and  was  probably  the 
smallest  vessel  that  ever  sailed  on  such  a  voyage. 

"  Well  out  on  the  whaling  grounds,  the  young  Cap- 
tain discovered  that  his  vessel  was  leaking  and  was  also 
very  defective  in  her  upper  works.  Most  commanders 
would  have  come  home.  He  put  into  Deigoa  Bay,  on 
the  coast  of  Africa,  where  he  found  a  number  of  his 
townsmen  in  command  of  English,  French,  and  Ameri- 
can ships.  He  called  to  his  aid  the  carpenters  and 
smiths  of  these  ships,  went  into  the  woods  and  cut 
timbers,  repaired  his  ship,  and  refastened  her  through- 
out. Then  they  went  for  a  cruise  off  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  fell  in  with  schools  of  whales,  filled  the  ship  in 
six  weeks,  and  were  home  full,  the  first  ship  of  the  sea- 
son. Captain  West's  reputation  was  now  assured.  In 
the  ship  Martha  he  made  two  voyages  to  the  Brazil 
Banks  and  to  Patagonia,  taking  upwards  of  1,850 
barrels  of  sperm  oil  each  time,  but  losing  the  last  — 
captured  by  the  English  ship  Nimrod,  in  the  war  of 
1812.  On  the  return  of  peace  he  made  three  seven 
months'  voyages  in  his  old  ship  Martha,  returning  full 
each  time.  Then  the  Liverpool  packet  Pacific  was 
bought,  and  in  her  in  a  seven  months'  voyage  he  took 


130  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

2,400  barrels  of  oil.  He  made  a  second  voyage  with 
like  results.  He  then  performed  his  last  voyage  in  the 
South  America,  taking  700  barrels,  and  retired  from 
the  sea,  having  brought  25,000  barrels  of  oil  into  port. 
He  died  in  1859,  nearly  eighty-five  years  of  age. 

"The  next  son,  Paul,  was  also  a  successful  ship- 
master, first  sailing  for  Nantucket  merchants  and  then 
in  English  employ.  His  brother,  Silas,  was  noted  for 
an  exploit  that  was  narrated  in  every  cabin  and  fore- 
castle throughout  the  fleet.  He  was  in  command  of  the 
London  whaleship  Indian,  and  when  off  the  Gallipagos 
Islands  discovered  a  school  of  ten  or  twelve  '  bull 
whales.'  Then  there  was  a  sound  of  piping  by  day,  the 
boats  were  lowered,  and  Captain  West  was  soon  in 
the  midst  of  the  monsters,  never  slacking  his  labors  till 
the  last  was  killed.  When  the  ship  worked  up  there 
were  ten  whales  waiting  to  be  taken  alongside.  I  was 
telling  this  story  years  afterwards  in  one  of  our  public 
resorts,  several  old  masters  being  present,  when  one, 
then  past  his  eightieth  birthday,  remarked : '  The  gentle- 
man has  told  the  truth  of  the  matter;  I  was  second  mate 
of  the  ship  Lion,  then  in  company,  and  saw  it  done.' 
Capt.  Silas  West  was  killed  by  a  sperm  whale  in  the 
Pacific  Ocean. 

"  Capt.  Benjamin  Worth  was  another  of  those  heroic 
masters.  A  volume  might  have  been  made  of  his  ex- 
ploits and  adventures.  Once  he  told  me  of  a  little 
adventure  that  befell  him  on  the  coast  of  New  Zealand, 


^1 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  131 

showing  how  a  trivial  circumstance  may  arrest  the 
course  of  events  and  dehver  from  the  jaws  of  destruc- 
tion. They  were  in  a  deep  bay  on  that  coast  when  a 
terrible  gale  overtook  them.  With  close-reefed  main 
topsail  and  foretop-mast  stays'l  set  —  all  they  could 
carry  —  they  tried  to  beat  out,  but  in  vain ;  the  ship 
was  urged  to  leeward  by  the  tempest  on  towards  the 
foaming  breakers  and  black,  jagged  rocks.  Captain 
and  mate  consulted,  and  decided  to  run  the  ship  on 
shore  while  it  was  day  so  that  they  could  pick  out  a 
safe  place  to  land.  The  negroes  on  board  —  and  most 
Nantucket  ships  carried  more  or  less  of  those  people  — 
on  hearing  the  order  to  put  up  the  helm,  and  seeing  the 
ship  headed  towards  shore,  crowded  around  the  Cap- 
tain and  urged  him  to  try  once  more  for  the  open  sea, 
'for,'  said  they,  'if  we  escape  to  shore  here,  we  shall 
surely  be  eaten,  for  the  natives  are  cannibals.'  They 
were  well  aware  that  the  New  Zealanders  much  pre- 
ferred negro  flesh  as  a  diet  to  that  of  white  men. 
Touched  by  their  distress,  the  Captain  decided  to  make 
another  attempt  to  gain  sea  room.  He  brought  the 
ship  to  the  wind  again,  and  set  fore  and  mizzen  tops'l, 
let  out  a  reef  in  each  of  the  others,  and  awaited  the 
result.  '  You  should  have  seen  the  tense,  pale  faces  of 
the  men,'  he  used  to  say,  'and  the  ship  dancing  like  a 
sea-bird  on  the  waves,  with  the  wind  howling  through 
her  cordage  like  a  legion  of  devils,  and  the  boiling  cal- 
dron on  her  lee.     But  the  sails  held,  the  wind  eased  up 


132  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

a  point  or  two,  and  we  flew  like  a  bird  past  the  head- 
land, and  out  to  sea.'  They  made  Sydney,  New  South 
Wales,  and  there  Captain  Worth  displayed  the  qualities 
of  a  great  commander  by  bringing  victory  out  of  dis- 
aster. The  ship  was  a  mere  wreck  —  boats  and  try- 
works  gone,  cabin  gangway  splintered,  part  of  the  deck 
torn  up,  and  not  a  barrel  of  oil  yet  obtained ;  but  Worth, 
not  disheartened,  built  boats,  repaired  his  ship,  made 
grass  rope,  recruited  stores,  and  put  to  sea,  and  in 
fifteen  months  was  at  Nantucket  Bar,  full.  That  shows 
the  spirit  of  a  Nantucket  sea-king.  Sailors  will  hardly 
believe  it;  but  I  had  it  from  his  own  lips.  This  Cap- 
tain Worth,  by  the  way,  was  grandfather  to  Secretary 
Folger's  wife.  He  was  an  elegant  sailor  and  com- 
mander, as  was  his  son,  who  sailed  from  England  the 
ships  Griffen  and  Rochester. 

"  Capt.  David  Baxter,  one  of  Mr.  Rotch's  captains, 
once  gave  his  owner  a  great  surprise.  When  in  Eng- 
land, just  before  the  war  of  1812,  Mr.  Rotch  engaged 
him  for  a  passage  to  the  Pacific  for  sperm  oil.  '  When 
thou  art  full  and  on  thy  way  home,'  said  he,  'call  at 
St.  Helena,  and  I  will  there  have  a  letter  directing  thee 
how  to  proceed  from  that  point.'  Everything  drew 
alow  and  aloft  on  the  passage  out,  and  when  the  good 
ship,  the  Charles,  reached  the  coast  of  Peru  she  found 
whales  so  plentiful  and  had  such  luck  in  striking  them 
that  she  was  full  before  the  men  had  thought  of  home; 
then  favoring  winds  swept  her  speedily  back,  and  she 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  133 

called  at  St.  Helena  for  the  letter  before  Mr.  Rotch 
had  thought  of  her  leaving  her  cruising-ground.  Of 
course,  there  was  no  letter  of  advice,  and  Captain 
Baxter  stood  away  for  England,  knowing  too  much 
to  attempt  New  Bedford,  with  all  his  Majesty's  cruisers 
on  the  lookout  for  American  ships.  He  took  a  pilot 
in  the  channel,  who,  one  morning,  before  Mr.  Rotch 
had  arisen,  anchored  the  Charles,  with  her  bowsprit 
almost  in  the  bow  windows  of  his  palatial  residence 
on  the  Thames.  Then  Captain  Baxter  went  ashore. 
Arrived  at  Mr.  Rotch's  house,  the  great  merchant  came 
into  the  reception-room  in  slippers  and  dressing-gown 
and  was  vastly  alarmed  to  meet  his  master.  'Why, 
Baxter,'  said  he,  'what  has  happened  to  thee.''  Has 
thee  become  a  wreck,  or  what  has  happened  ? '  sup- 
posing he  had  made  no  voyage.  But  when  the  Cap- 
tain announced  the  Charles  as  full  of  sperm  oil,  worth 
an  enormous  number  of  guineas,  Mr.  Rotch  was  im- 
mensely relieved,  and  heartily  congratulating  him, 
made  him  stay  to  breakfast.  It  was  a  great  surprise 
to  the  old  Quaker.  I  think  the  time  was  only  about 
eighteen  months  —  the  usual  absence  being  three 
years.  Baxter  was  a  man  of  untiring  force  in  all  his 
fine  voyages.  I  have  heard  him  relate  details  of  them 
often.  He  was  uncle  to  Sir  Francis  Baxter,  of  New 
Zealand  memory. 

"  Let  me  give  you  an  instance  of  the  strength  and 
nerve  of  another  of  our  Nantucket  sea-kings,   Capt. 


134  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Obed  Fitch.  He  went,  as  second  mate  of  that  famous 
ship  the  Maria,  to  the  east  coast  of  Africa,  George  G. 
Hussey  being  commander,  and  Micajah  Gardner  first 
officer.  Approaching  the  African  coast,  near  where 
Riley  and  Paddock,  two  of  our  best  captains,  had  been 
disastrously  wrecked,  the  man  on  the  forecastle  re- 
ported 'something  looking  strange  to  him  ahead.' 
Fitch,  who  had  the  deck,  walked  forward,  and  peering 
under  the  foresail,  at  once  discovered  the  land  looking 
white.  Quick  as  a  flash,  without  a  word  or  order  to 
any  one,  he  sprang  to  the  quarter  deck  and  put  down 
the  helm  —  hard  down  to  the  rail,  then  springing  to 
the  yards,  swung  them  around  with  his  powerful  arms 
as  quickly  as  though  all  hands  had  been  at  the  halliards, 
thus  putting  the  ship  about  and  on  the  opposite  tack; 
then,  pausing  to  look  over  her  side,  he  saw  the  mud 
coming  up,  and  sea-drift,  showing  that  her  keel  had 
scraped  the  bottom.  When  the  ship  was  safe.  Captain 
Hussey  appeared  in  the  gangway  with  Mr.  Gardner, 
and  took  Mr.  Fitch's  statement.  Next  morning  at  the 
breakfast-table  Captain  Hussey  said  plaj'fully:  'Mr. 
Gardner,  why  didn't  you  take  the  deck  last  night.'' 
'  Why,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Gardner,  '  I  saw  Mr.  Fitch  had  it, 
and  that  no  man  was  safe  around  him.  I  saw  he  was 
in  earnest.' 

"  Captain  Fitch  was  a  fine,  majestic  figure,  over  six 
feet  tall,  muscular,  strong-limbed,  his  arms  when  in 
motion  plainly  showing  his  power.     It  is  said  that  once 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  135 

while  bringing  a  new  ship  home  they  wanted  water 
from  alongside,  and  there  being  no  bucket,  he  seized  a 
barrel,  and  letting  it  down  drew  it  up  full  as  easily  as 
an  ordinary  seaman  would  a  bucket. 

"  Capt.  William  Mooers  of  the  ship  Maria  was  Mr. 
Rotch's  favorite  captain.  I  heard  a  story  once  illus- 
trating his  spirit  and  decision  of  character.  He  was 
making  a  voyage  to  France  in  command  of  the  Maria, 
Mr.  Rotch  being  a  passenger.  We  were  at  war  with 
England  at  the  time,  and  Captain  Mooers  had  begged 
to  be  permitted  to  arm  his  ship  ere  setting  out,  but  the 
Quaker  merchant  said  there  must  be  no  fighting  on 
his  vessels.  A  few  days  out  a  cruiser  discovered  them 
and  gave  chase.  She  drew  so  near  that  the  balls  began 
to  whistle  about,  and  Mr.  Rotch,  horrified  at  the  sound 
of  strife,  rushed  on  deck  and  ordered  Captain  Mooers 
to  strike  his  flag.  'Mr.  Rotch,'  said  Captain  Mooers, 
'go  below;  I  have  the  deck,'  and  he  held  on  his  course. 
At  the  same  moment  the  breeze  freshened,  and  the 
Marians  wide  spread  of  canvas  enabled  her  to  take 
herself  out  of  harm's  way.  It  is  not  on  record  that  Mr. 
Rotch  ever  disciplined  his  captain  for  this  cavalier  dis- 
regard of  orders. 

"  It  is  something,  is  it  not,  to  have  talked  with  a  man 
who  has  been  in  the  whale's  mouth  .^  That  man  was 
Capt.  Edmund  Gardner,  a  descendant  of  John  Swain, 
Jr.,  the  first  white  male  child  born  on  Nantucket.  He 
began  his  sea  life  in  1801,  in  the  ship  Union,  Grafton 


136  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Gardner,  commander,  and  succeeded  to  the  Captaincy 
in  1807,  at  the  same  time  sailing  to  the  Pacific  on  a 
whaHng  voyage.  Twenty  days  out  a  huge  sperm  whale 
struck  the  ship,  and  she  immediately  sank.  Captain 
and  crew  escaping  in  their  three  whale-boats,  in  which, 
after  many  adventures,  they  safely  reached  the  Azores. 
There  Captain  Gardner  found  another  ship,  and  in 
her  made  a  noble  sperm-whale  voyage.  In  1816,  while 
on  another  voyage  in  the  same  ship,  on  the  Peruvian 
coast,  in  an  encounter  with  a  sperm  whale,  his  boat 
was  knocked  into  splinters,  and  he  was  precipitated 
into  the  monster's  mouth.  The  horrible  jaws  closed 
on  him,  then  opened  and  cast  him  out.  The  mate's 
boat  took  him  up  for  dead.  One  hand  was  gone,  and 
there  was  an  indentation  in  his  head  deep  enough  to 
hold  an  egg.  The  mate  made  all  sail  for  the  port  of 
Paita,  in  Peru,  where  they  soon  arrived.  It  being  the 
hot  season  there,  the  doctor  said  the  wounded  man 
must  be  taken  up  into  the  mountains,  where  the  cool 
breezes  would  serve  to  restore  him.  This  was  actually 
accomplished.  He  regained  his  ship,  completed  his 
voyage,  and  arrived  home  in  New  Bedford  in  1817,  to 
the  great  joy  of  his  owners,  the  Rotches  and  Rodmans. 
"Reuben  R.  Pinkham  was  another  of  our  great 
masters.  An  anecdote  of  him  is  well  worth  repeating. 
In  1833  the  United  States  frigate  Potomac,  Com- 
modore John  Downes  in  command,  was  crossing 
the  North  Pacific   on   her  voyage   round   the   world. 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  137 

Reuben  R.  Pinkham  was  her  third  lieutenant.  One 
day,  near  sunset,  Pinkham  had  the  watch,  and  the 
Commodore  was  walking  the  deck.  The  wind,  which 
before  was  fresh,  had  increased  to  a  gale,  topgallant 
sails  were  handed  down,  topsails  reefed,  and  the  spanker 
brailed  up,  when  all  at  once  Pinkham  gave  the  order: 
'Man  the  weather  head  braces,  weather  main  brace, 
weather  main  topsail  brace,  lee  crojeck  (cross jack) 
braces.'  'What  is  that  for,  Mr.  Pinkham?'  asked  the 
Commodore.  'We  shall  have  the  wind  out  here  in  a 
moment,  sir,'  said  Pinkham,  stretching  his  arm  out 
and  pointing  to  leeward.  W^ith  that  the  Commodore 
ran  over  to  the  lee  rail  and  looked  anxiously  out  in  the 
direction  indicated.  Presently  he  returned  and  said: 
'I  see  no  signs  of  it,  Mr.  Pinkham;  let  the  men  leave 
the  braces.'  With  that  a  number  of  the  crew  dropped 
the  ropes,  but  on  Pinkham's  calling  out  '  Keep  hold  of 
those  braces,  every  man  of  you!'  they  resumed  their 
grasp.  The  Commodore's  face  flushed  with  anger  to 
find  his  directions  thus  disregarded,  and  he  called  out 
in  a  peremptory  tone,  'Let  the  men  leave  the  braces, 
sir!'  Again  the  crew  dropped  the  ropes,  when  Pink- 
ham, shaking  his  trumpet  at  them,  exclaimed,  'Don't 
any  of  you  dare  to  let  go  of  those  ropes!'  At  that 
moment  the  wind  did  not  die  away,  but  stopped,  and 
the  sails  flapped  against  the  masts.  Raising  the 
trumpet  to  his  lips,  Pinkham  shouted,  'Haul  taut,' 
and  the  ponderous  yards  swung  to  a  reversed  direction. 


138  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

This  was  hardly  done  when  the  wind  shot  out  of  the 
opposite  quarter  and  struck  the  ship  like  a  sledge- 
hammer. She  bent  over  before  it,  but  shaking  the 
spray  from  her  bows  dashed  forward  unharmed. 
Commodore  Downes  said  not  a  word,  but  rushed  into 
his  cabin,  and  presently  the  orderly  came  up  to  Mr. 
Pinkham  and  said  the  Commodore  wished  him  to  send 
to  the  first  lieutenant  to  relieve  him  for  a  few  minutes, 
as  he  wished  to  see  him  in  the  cabin.  Entering  the 
cabin,  Pinkham  found  the  Commodore  seated  by  a 
table  with  a  decanter  of  wine  and  two  wine-glasses 
before  him.  Pushing  one  of  the  latter  towards  his 
visitor,  he  said:  'Take  a  glass  of  wine,  Mr.  Pinkham. 
Mr.  Pinkham,  I  consider  myself  indebted  to  you  for 
my  own  life,  and  for  the  lives  of  all  on  board  this  ship. 
Had  you  not  hauled  the  yards  just  when  you  did,  and 
had  the  wind  found  the  ship  unprepared,  and  taken 
the  sails  aback,  not  all  the  power  on  earth  could  have 
moved  the  yards,  and  the  ship  would  have  gone  down 
stern  foremost.  But  I  tell  you  frankly  that  had  the 
wind  not  come  out  as  you  predicted,  I  would  have  put 
you  under  arrest  in  two  minutes.'  'Commodore 
Downes,'  replied  Lieutenant  Pinkham,  'I  did  not  in- 
tend any  disrespect,  and  I  should  be  sorry  if  you  thought 
I  did,  but  I  have  been  in  these  seas  before,  and  am 
familiar  with  these  sudden  changes  of  wind.  I  saw 
undoubted  indications  of  such  change  then,  and  knew 
that  I  had  no  time  for  explanation.' 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  139 

"Benjamin  Hussey  was  another  of  our  great  cap- 
tains —  the  first  to  enter  the  Falkland  Isles  in  a  whaler 
—  my  journals  say  in  January,  1785.  Before  that 
date  he  was  in  Greenland,  again  off  the  African  coast 
whaling.  When  in  France  Napoleon  confiscated  his 
entire  property.  Then  he  came  to  Nantucket,  and  the 
people  engaged  him  to  inoculate  us  boys  —  that  was 
in  1815.  I  shall  never  forget  his  huge  head;  when  he 
took  off  his  broad  beaver  I  could  think  of  nothing  but 
a  half-bushel  of  brains.  In  1817  he  returned  to  France 
and  regained  some  of  his  property.  With  that  and 
the  assistance  of  some  of  my  family,  he  fitted  out  from 
Dunkirk  a  whaler  for  the  Greenland  fishery,  where  he 
arrived  all  safe,  but  unfortunately  soon  got  entangled 
in  the  icebergs.  He  was  at  the  wheel,  steering  the 
vessel,  when  the  ice  crushed  against  the  rudder,  and 
threw  him  over  the  wheel,  breaking  his  ribs,  from 
which  wounds  he  soon  died.  May,  1820,  then  eighty 
years  and  five  months  old. 

"  It  was  men  of  this  fiber  that  William  Rotch  had  in 
mind  when  he  made  his  famous  reply  to  George  III. 
Rotch  asked  for  the  admission  of  the  Nantucket  whale 
ships  and  their  cargoes  to  England  free  of  duty.  '  And 
what  wilt  thou  give  me  in  return  .^ '  asked  his  Majesty. 
'  We  will  give  thee  and  thy  people  the  young  men  of  my 
native  island,'  replied  the  intrepid  Quaker,  and  I  think 
the  return  would  have  balanced  the  concession. 

"I  could  fill  a  volume  with  anecdotes,  but  these  will 


140  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

suffice  to  indicate  the  character  of  the  men  of  Nan- 
tucket. Remember,  too,  that  I  have  mentioned  but 
few  of  the  noble  men  who  have  sailed  from  our  port 
and  carried  its  fame  to  the  remotest  ports.  I  was  re- 
calling yesterday  the  names  of  some  of  the  more  notable 
of  those  not  mentioned  —  Robert  Folger,  of  the  same 
blood  as  Franklin's  mother  and  the  late  Secretary  of 
the  Treasury;  Joshua  Coffin  and  Shubael  Coffin,  con- 
nections of  Sir  Isaac  Coffin,  the  baronet;  Thomas 
Hiller;  Silas  Holmes,  the  merchant  of  New  York; 
Gideon  Gardner,  Resolved  Gardner,  the  latter  one  of 
Girard's  captains;  John  Grinnell,  Thomas  Bunker, 
Reuben  R.  Bunker,  Jonathan  Colesworthy,  the  East 
India  Captain,  John  Gardner  of  Philadelphia,  Walter 
Folger,  J.  C.  Briggs,  Joseph  Chase,  Silas  Ives,  James 
Gwin,  Ransom  Jones,  Gideon  Ramsdell,  Seth  Swain, 
Jacob  Barker,  Latham  Gardner,  Thaddeus  Coffin, 
Micajah  Gardner,  Zebulon  Coffin,  Robert  Mott,  and 
George  Pollard,  who  was  with  Fulton  on  the  Clermont 
in  1807,  when  she  made  her  first  trip  up  the  Hudson, 
and  Joseph  Rotch,  who  commanded  the  Dartvioidh 
on  her  first  voyage  out  after  the  tea  had  been  emptied 
out  of  her  (the  voyage  was  to  London,  and  on  her 
return  she  foundered,  and  Captain  Rotch  and  his 
crew  were  taken  off  by  Timothy  Folger  and  brought 
to  Boston,  November,  1774),  and  the  Watermans  — 
Thaddeus,  Robert,  and  Robert,  Jr.  —  the  latter 
famed  for  his  quick  China  passages,  seventy-four  and 


The  Sea  Kings  of  Nantucket  141 

seventy-eight  days,  which  have  never  been  beaten 
—  Alexander  Coffin,  the  London  packet  master,  who 
conveyed  Dr.  Frankhn's  despatches  to  the  Continental 
Congress,  and  Nathan  Coffin,  his  grandfather,  whom 
Bancroft  cites  ('History  of  the  United  States,'  vol.  ix, 
p.  313)  as  a  noble  example  of  the  indomitable  spirit 
of  the  American  patriot,  and  scores  of  others,  who  each 
achieved  such  greatness  that  we  might  look  upon  him 
and  say: 

Take  Bim  for  all  in  all,  he  was  a  man, 
We  ne'er  shall  look  upon  iiis  like  again. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WRECKS  AND  WRECKING 

WHILE  on  the  island  my  friend  introduced  me 
to  "the  Captain's  room,"  one  of  the  institu- 
tions of  Nantucket. 

It  is  a  club  room  moored  alongside  the  custom  house, 
where  the  old  captains  meet  morning  and  evening, 
smoke  Indian  pipes,  talk  over  the  affairs  of  the  day  and 
indulge  in  reminiscences  of  their  seafaring  days.  The 
stranger,  so  happy  as  to  be  introduced  there,  hears  mov- 
ing tales  of  swift  voyages,  big  catches,  perilous  adven- 
tures, storms  and  wrecks.  Of  the  latter,  simply  to 
show  the  flavor  of  the  place,  we  note  a  few. 

"  One  of  the  strangest  wrecks  on  the  coast,"  remarked 
Captain  R.,  "occurred  before  the  revolution  —  in  1774 
it  was.  The  man  that  told  me  about  it,  my  grand- 
father, had  clean  forgotten  the  vessel's  names,  but  he 
remembered  that  they  were  a  schooner  and  a  sloop,  and 
that  the  skippers  were  Peleg  Swain  and  David  Squires, 
two  famous  commanders  of  those  days.  Both  vessels 
stood  away  from  Sankaty  together,  bound  on  a  whaling 
voyage  to  the  Pacific.  They  were  about  fifteen  miles 
off  the  island  verging  on  to  Great  Rip,  when  there 


Wrecks  and  Wrecking  143 

came  a  cry  of  '  breakers  ahead,'  and  there,  right  under 
their  bows,  was  a  smoking  surf  boihng  and  breaking 
on  the  very  spot  they  had  sailed  over  in  making  port  a 
month  before.  The  tricky  current  in  one  storm  had 
heaped  up  a  bar  there.  In  a  moment  both  struck,  with 
a  shock  that  made  their  masts  reel  and  every  timber 
shiver.  The  sea  was  running  high;  notwithstanding, 
the  sloop's  crew  out  with  their  boats  and  tried  to  carry 
an  anchor  astern,  hoping  by  it  to  warp  her  off.  The 
furious  sea,  however,  dumped  the  anchor  under  her 
bows  and  swept  the  boat  over  the  bar.  Unable  to 
regain  the  sloop,  the  boat  made  for  shore,  and  after  an 
exciting  battle  with  the  waves  came  safely  into  the 
harbor.  Thirteen  of  the  crew  were  left  on  the  vessel. 
She  broke  up  in  a  few  hours,  but  her  quarter  deck 
floated  off  whole,  and  the  thirteen  climbing  upon  this 
were  swept  by  the  seas  upon  the  sou 'east  shore  and 
made  their  way  to  Sconset.  Meantime,  hard  and  fast 
a  mile  to  lee'ard,  was  the  schooner.  Her  crew  fared 
worse  even,  for  her  boats  were  shivered  at  the  first 
crash.  They  made  a  raft  and  tried  to  gain  the  shore, 
paddling  with  oars  and  pieces  of  wood.  Nearing 
Sconset  on  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  they  were 
being  swept  by  when  their  shouts  aroused  the  village 
and  the  brave  fellows  there  went  out  and  rescued  them. 
Next  day  the  owners  sent  out  a  vessel  to  the  scene,  but 
she  couldn't  find  a  trace  of  schooner  or  sloop  —  the 
currents  had  carried  every  bit  of  wreckage,  even,  away. 


144  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

So  the  owners  had  two  fine  vessels,  with  their  outfits, 
worth  at  least  $30,000,  to  put  on  the  loss  side  of  the 
ledger." 

"  Curious,"  said  an  old  merchant  over  in  the  corner, 
"  how  the  wrecks  come  in  shoals.  Some  years  scarcely 
any,  and  again  scores,  as  was  the  case  on  December  21, 
24,  and  25,  1865. 

First  to  come  was  the  Eveline  Treat,  Captain  Philbrook, 
picked  up  by  Miacomet  Rip.  The  life-saving  men  saw 
her,  but  the  sea  was  too  furious  for  the  life-boat,  so  they 
fired  a  line  over  her  bow,  drew  out  a  hawser,  and  started 
the  breeches  buoy.  Every  person  came  over  it  safely 
but  the  Captain,  an  old  man.  As  he  left  the  ship  the 
block  got  jammed  and  refused  to  traverse  the  hawser, 
so  that  he  hung  over  the  waves  a  matter  of  an  hour  and 
a  half,  drenched  by  the  spray  and  slowly  freezing, 
while  fifteen  hundred  people  looked  on  unable  to  help. 
At  last  a  young  man  of  the  old  heroic  stuff,  unable  longer 
to  see  a  man  drowning  before  his  eyes,  stepped  from 
the  crowd,  threw  aside  coat  and  boots,  took  a  knife 
between  his  teeth,  knotted  a  light  rope  to  his  waist,  and 
giving  the  free  end  to  the  bystanders,  went  out  hand  over 
hand  along  the  hawser,  at  one  moment,  as  the  vessel 
rolled,  held  high  in  air,  the  next  dipped  in  the  raging 
flood,  until  he  reached  the  entangled  block,  freed  it, 
and  with  the  Captain  was  brought  safely  back,  to  land. 
The  brave  fellow — Frederick  W.  Ramsdell  —  received 
a  gold  medal  for  this  act,  and  richly  deserved  it  too. 


Wrecks  and  Wrecking  145 

The  excitement  over  this  wreck  had  scarcely  died 
out  when  the  town  was  stirred  by  news  of  a  schooner 
ashore  on  the  West  End. 

It  was  December  24  and  the  thermometer  six  degrees 
below  zero,  yet  almost  everybody  able-bodied  streamed 
over  the  downs  to  the  wreck.  What  a  sight  she  was.  From 
main  trucks  to  water  line  coated  with  ice  that  sparkled 
in  the  sun  like  tiaras  of  diamonds.  The  Humane 
Society's  crew  was  there,  launched  their  boat  and 
reached  the  wreck  though  the  surf  ran  high.  No  one 
was  on  board.  The  crew  had  taken  to  their  boats 
and  had  perished  in  the  sea.  An  upturned  boat  and  a 
dead  man  under  it,  found  later  on  the  beach,  told  the 
story  of  the  mariner's  fate.  The  next  day  —  Christmas 
—  came  in  with  a  furious  sou'east  gale,  and  at  an  early 
hour  the  herald  sped  through  the  town  with  his  start- 
ling cry,  "A  wreck,  a  wreck;  a  big  ship  at  Surfside!" 
That  is  on  the  south  shore  three  miles  from  town, 
directly  across  the  downs,  and  a  boiling,  seething  mass 
of  water  rages  there  in  a  sou'easter  —  we  call  it  Nep- 
tune's dinner  pot.  An  appalling  sight  we  beheld  there. 
A  noble  iron  ship  of  800  tons,  held  in  the  grip  of  the 
sands,  and  pounded  by  thundering  breakers  like  Titanic 
hammers,  that,  striking  her,  spouted  fifty  feet  in  air 
with  the  shock.  Masts,  spars,  furniture,  cargo  they 
tossed  aloft  as  mere  playthings,  and  as  for  an}i;hing 
human,  it  could  not  have  stood  the  shock  of  those  seas 
an  instant.     Every  soul  had  vanished  ere  we  reached 


146  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

her,  and  there  was  naught  to  do  but  look  on.  She 
proved  to  be  the  Newton,  Captain  Herting,  only  thirty- 
six  hours  from  New  York,  bound  to  Hamburg,  Ger- 
many, with  a  miscellaneous  cargo,  the  largest  item 
being  5,000  barrels  of  kerosene  oil.  Not  a  soul 
of  her  crew  was  saved.  The  Humane  Society's 
crew  found,  thrown  on  the  blufip,  the  body,  yet 
warm,  of  her  young  second  mate,  who  had  just 
graduated  with  honor  at  the  Hamburg  Naval  School. 
Of  the  crews  of  the  two  vessels  the  sea  gave  up  fourteen, 
which  were  borne  to  the  town  and  placed  in  the  Metho- 
dist church,  where  funeral  rites  were  held,  the  pastors 
of  all  the  churches  oflSciating.  Then  the  unfortunates 
were  buried  in  the  island  cemetery  with  due  religious 
rites,  and  tidings  of  their  sad  fate  and  directions  for 
reaching  their  graves  were  sent  to  their  friends  in  Ger- 
many." 

"You  would  scarcely  look  for  anything  funny  in 
wrecks,"  said  another,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his 
pipe,  "but  now  and  then  an  incident  occurs  that  has 
its  humorous  side.  Take,  for  instance,  the  case  of  the 
good  ship  Nathaniel  Hooper,  of  Boston,  Capt.  John 
Bogardus.  She  struck  on  South  Shoal,  off  Nantucket, 
July  8,  1838.  To  lighten  her  the  Captain  threw  over- 
board several  hundred  boxes  of  sugar  between  decks; 
but  as  she  remained  fast  and  was  pounding  heavily,  he 
abandoned  her,  fearing  she  would  go  to  pieces  unex- 
pectedly.    The  boats  reached  shore  and  Captain  Bo- 


Wrecks  and  Wrecking  147 

gardus  hurried  up  to  Boston  to  report  her  loss  to  the 
owners.  'Why,  man,'  said  they,  'you  are  dreaming. 
The  Hooper  is  safe  in  her  berth  at  India  dock.'  Down 
there  posted  the  Captain,  and  scarce  could  believe  the 
evidence  of  his  senses.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked 
again.  Yes,  there  was  the  Hoofer,  that  he  had  left 
aground  on  South  Shoal,  with  a  storm  coming  up. 
Hastening  back  to  the  owners,  they  told  him  the  story  — 
how  the  storm  proved  to  be  a  heavy  shower  from  the 
northwest,  which  blew  her  off  the  shoal;  that  she  then 
drifted  off  toward  Boston,  and  early  next  morning  was 
fallen  in  with  by  a  Gloucester  fishing  smack,  which, 
scenting  salvage,  put  two  men  on  board,  with  orders  to 
make  the  port  of  Boston.  The  men  navigated  her 
awhile,  but  finding  themselves  short-handed,  took  on 
three  more  from  another  smack  they  fell  in  with, 
and  the  five  successfully  took  the  ship  into  the 
harbor." 

"  For  bravery  and  invention  at  rescue,"  said  another 
old  sea  king  from  the  depths  of  his  armchair,  "take 
the  case  of  the  fine  ship  Earl  of  Eglinton,  which  left 
Liverpool  in  December,  1845,  bound  for  the  East 
Indies  via  Boston,  and  on  the  14th  of  March,  1846, 
after  a  bitterly  stormy  passage,  found  herself  embayed 
in  the  shoals  of  Nantucket  Sound.  At  once  the  startled 
mariners  let  go  their  best  bower,  but  the  vessel  thumped 
so  that  the  heavy  cable  parted  and  she  went  adrift 
amid  thunder,  lightning,  and  fog,  until  about  midnight 


148  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

she  struck  on  Old  Man  Shoal.  At  three  in  the  morning, 
after  grinding  and  thumping  three  hours,  she  slipped 
off  into  deep  water  and  was  carried  along  by  the  cur- 
rent, between  the  rip  and  island,  until  daybreak,  when 
the  crew,  spying  a  little  cove  near  Tom  Never's  Head, 
where  the  surf  seemed  less  violent,  ran  her  in  shore 
until  she  grounded  in  five  fathoms  of  water.  The  same 
moment  a  huge  breaker  came  aboard,  swept  the  deck, 
filled  the  cabins,  and  forced  all  hands  into  the  rigging. 
A  great  crowd  soon  gathered  on  shore,  almost  within 
hailing  distance,  but  wholly  without  means  of  rescue, 
the  surf  being  too  violent  for  the  life-boat,  and  the 
Lyle  gun  and  breeches  buoy  not  having  been  invented. 
After  awhile  eight  of  the  crew  launched  the  life-boat 
and  pinnace,  and  in  them  attempted  to  make  the  shore, 
but  both  boats  were  stove  to  splinters  the  moment  they 
touched  the  surf,  and  their  occupants  drowned  and 
pounded  to  death  before  the  eyes  of  the  horrified  spec- 
tators. This  drove  an  inventive  old  whaleman  among 
them  to  write  on  a  board  in  large  letters :  "  Bind  a  line 
to  an  oar."  The  crew  on  the  wreck  read  the  message 
and  did  as  directed ;  the  surges  heaved  the  oar  landward, 
it  was  caught  with  a  bluefish  drail,  a  hawser  was  then 
attached  to  the  end  on  the  wreck  and  drawn  ashore 
and  made  fast.  Next  our  inventor  improvised  a  sling 
out  of  an  old  hames  and  a  bow  line  which  would  travel 
over  the  hawser,  and  by  means  of  this  extempore 
breeches  buoy,  all  the  remaining  crew  were  rescued. 


Wrecks  and  Wrecking  149 

This   device  led,  no  doubt,  to   the   invention   of  the 
breeches  buoy." 

One  might  collect  tales  of  wrecks  as  distinctive  and 
interesting  as  the  above  sufficient  to  fill  a  volume.  The 
whole  coast  of  the  island  is  lined  with  skeletons  of 
wrecks,  barnacled  old  timbers,  planks,  spars,  bolts,  and 
other  mementoes  of  the  sea's  treachery  and  fury.  The 
fields  are  fenced,  and  the  barns  and  outhouses  covered 
with  the  spoil  of  wrecks.  Over  in  "Sconset"  they 
have  a  weird  fancy  for  nailing  stem  planks  of  wrecked 
vessels  bearing  the  ship's  name  over  the  lintels  of  the 
doors  as  a  sort  of  figurehead,  and  the  cottager's  fire 
snaps  and  sparkles  mainly  on  the  drift  of  wrecks  cast 
up  at  his  door.  It  burns  with  a  greenish  flame,  this 
wreck  timber,  and  exhales  a  strong  sea  odor.  A  poeti- 
cal friend  of  mine  asserts  that  it  is  prolific  of  eldritch 
fancies. 


CHAPTER  XX 

NANTUCKET  ENTERTAINS  THE  GOVERNOR 

WHEN  my  friend  was  not  telling  sea  stories,  I 
was  curled  up  in  his  library,  poring  over 
a  mass  of  scrap  books,  log  books,  old  letters,  etc.,  of 
which  he  had  great  store.  In  one  of  these  scrap  books, 
I  unearthed  the  following  account  of  Governor 
Lincoln's  visit  to  Nantucket  before  the  day  of  steam- 
boats, written  by  one  of  the  members  of  his  staff  —  no 
less  a  personage  indeed  than  Josiah  Quincy  himself. 

My  friend  regarded  the  time-stained  pages  with 
interest.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "that  was  in  September, 
1825.  The  party  comprised  the  Governor,  Hezekiah 
Barnard,  Treasurer  of  State;  Aaron  Hill,  Postmaster 
of  Boston;  Colonel  Davis,  he  who  was  later  the  Hon. 
Josiah  Quincy,  but  was  then  a  young  man  just  out  of 
college,  and  acting  as  private  secretary  to  the  Gover- 
nor; Miss  Abby  Hedge,  and  three  other  sprightly  and 
charming  young  ladies  whose  names  are  not  given. 
The  party  proceeded  by  stage  to  Falmouth,  on  Cape 
Cod,  where  they  found  the  Nantucket  packet  ready  to 
sail,  and  also  a  head  wind  which  prevented  her  doing 
anything  of  the  sort.     '  Oh !  those  head  winds,'  exclaims 


Nantucket  Entertains  the  Governor  151 

the  narrator;  'what  plagues  they  were  to  those  who 
were  in  a  hurry  to  leave  our  harbors,  and  how  steam 
has  lengthened  the  lives  of  travelers  by  sparing  them 
those  dreary  waits.  We  had  risen  at  a  most  uncom- 
fortable hour  to  post  on  to  Falmouth;  and  here  we 
might  remain  a  week,  unless  the  wind  condescended  to 
blow  from  some  quarter  that  would  allow  our  vessel 
to  get  out  of  the  bay.  We  accepted  this  fact  with  such 
philosophy  as  was  available,  listening  the  while  to  the 
prognostications  of  the  skippers,  and  frequently  gazing 
at  the  heavens  for  such  hope  or  consolation  as  they 
might  supply.  But  we  were  not  on  this  occasion  to 
be  tried  beyond  our  strength,  for  as  the  sun  went  down 
the  wind  hauled  several  points,  and  we  were  off. 

"'Concerning  the  passage,  I  will  only  observe  that 
the  Nantucket  packet,  although  it  carried  the  ruler  of 
a  sovereign  State,  could  by  no  means  transform  itself 
into  a  royal  yacht.  We  were  stowed  in  narrow  bunks 
in  an  indiscriminate  and  vulgar  manner,  and  took  such 
repose  as  we  might  till  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  a  sudden  thud,  followed  by  an  unpleasant  swash- 
ing sound  about  the  vessel's  sides,  brought  us  to  our 
feet  to  inquire  what  had  happened.  "All  right,"  said 
the  skipper.  "Just  you  lie  still  till  morning;  we're 
aground  on  Nantucket  Bar.  That's  all."  Thus  ad- 
jured, we  thought  it  best  to  remain  below,  till  a  faint 
suspicion  of  dawn  struggled  into  the  cabin,  and  gave 
us  an  excuse  for  coming  upon  deck.     Several  whaling- 


152  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

ships,  anchored  outside  the  harbor,  loomed  to  gigantic 
proportions  in  the  gray  morning.  "  There  is  Yankee  per- 
severance for  you,"  exclaimed  the  Governor.  "Would 
they  believe  in  Europe  that  a  port  which  annually  sends 
eighty  of  these  whalers  to  the  Pacific  has  a  harbor 
which  a  sloop  drawing  eight  feet  of  water  cannot  enter .'' " 

" '  Soon  after  sunrise  the  tide  lighted  us  over  the  bar, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  two  whale-boats  were  seen 
pulling  sturdily  for  the  packet.  In  the  stern  of  one  sat 
Mr.  Barker  Burnell,  and  in  the  other  Mr.  Macy,  both 
leading  men  to  whom  the  islanders  had  delegated  the 
duties  of  reception.  And  full  of  modest  cordiality 
was  our  meeting  by  the  occupants  of  the  boats,  and  by 
the  crowd  of  citizens  who  had  assembled  upon  the  shore 
to  see  the  Governor  land.  There  was  no  pushing  or 
vulgar  staring;  indeed,  there  was  a  certain  pervading 
air  of  diflBdence,  by  no  means  characteristic  of  street 
assemblies  upon  the  continent;  but  the  heartiest  good- 
will beamed  from  sober  faces,  when  the  long  spell  was 
broken  and  the  Executive  fairly  stood  upon  Nantucket 
sands. 

"'As  there  was  no  house  sufficiently  capacious  to 
accommodate  our  party,  it  was  divided  among  the  hos- 
pitable inhabitants,  the  Governor  and  Colonel  Davis 
being  entertained  by  Mr.  Macy,  Treasurer  Barnard  by 
Mr.  Hill,  and  the  youngest  aide-de-camp  by  Mr,.Burnell. 
And  then  came  visits  to  the  whale-ships  and  the  sper- 
maceti works,  dinners  and  evening  receptions,  the  latter 


Nantucket  Entertains  the  Governor  153 

being  graced  by  the  presence  of  very  pretty  young 
women.  Then  on  Saturday  morning  carriages  were 
ordered  to  take  us  to  Siasconset,  that  is,  it  will  sound 
better  to  call  them  carriages,  but  they  were  in  fact 
springless  tip-carts  very  like  those  used  at  the  present 
day  for  the  carting  of  gravel.  The  ancient  Romans, 
when  enjoying  a  triumph,  appear  to  have  ridden  in  two- 
wheeled  vehicles,  bearing  considerable  resemblance 
to  that  in  which  our  Massachusetts  chieftain  passed 
through  the  admiring  streets  of  Nantucket.  But  none 
of  these  old  heroes  balanced  himself  more  deftly  in  his 
chariot,  took  its  jolts  with  more  equanimity,  or  bowed 
more  graciously  to  the  populace,  than  did  good  Gov- 
ernor Lincoln  when  undergoing  his  transportation  by 
tip-cart.  There  are  some  personalities  which  seem  to 
supply  their  own  pageantry.  Mr.  Pickwick  is  not 
extinguished  even  when  trundled  in  a  wheelbarrow. 
The  escort,  however,  rather  wilted  before  they  reached 
Siasconset,  and  found  the  noble  chowder  there  prepared 
for  their  commander-in-chief  very  acceptable. 

"'The  Governor's  visit  may  be  said  to  have  reached 
its  crisis  in  a  solemn  reception  at  the  insurance  office, 
whither  repaired  all  the  leading  citizens  to  be  pre- 
sented to  their  guest.  Many  of  them  were  old  whalers, 
simple  and  intelligent,  yet  with  that  air  of  authority 
which  the  habit  of  command  exercised  in  difficult 
situations  is  sure  to  give.  Their  ruddy  health,  strong 
nerves,  and  abundant  energy  made  one  suspect  that 


154  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

there  were  some  of  the  finest  human  quahties  which 
are  not  to  be  tested  by  the  examinations  of  Harvard 
College.  I  was  introduced  to  several  of  these  men  who 
had  never  been  on  the  continent  of  North  America, 
though  they  had  visited  South  America  and  the  Pacific 
islands.  I  have  noted  also  talking  with  one  Quaker 
gentleman  of  sixty,  who  had  seen  no  other  horizon 
than  that  which  bounds  Nantucket.  The  Friends, 
being  the  oldest  and  most  respectable  body  of  Chris- 
tians, gave  their  somber  color  to  the  town  and  their 
thrifty  ways  to  those  holding  its  purse-strings.  For 
instance,  when  it  was  complained  that  Nantucket,  the 
greatest  depot  of  spermaceti  and  whale  oil  in  the  whole 
world,  was  likewise  its  darkest  corner  in  the  evening, 
it  was  replied  that  it  would  be  culpably  extravagant  to 
consume  at  home  in  street  lanterns  oil  that  had  been 
procured  for  exportation.  Moreover,  the  reckless  in- 
novater  was  invited  to  impale  himself  upon  one  of  the 
horns  of  this  little  dilemma:  Oil  was  either  high  or 
low.  Now,  if  it  was  low,  the  citizens  could  not  afford 
to  pay  the  tax;  but  if  it  was  high,  the  town  could  not 
afford  to  purchase  it. 

" '  After  the  reception  we  all  went  to  the  barber-shop, 
not  to  be  shaved,  but  to  inspect  the  collection  of  South 
Sea  curiosities  of  which  this  functionary  was  the  cus- 
todian. And  here  we  lingered  until  it  was  time  to 
prepare  for  the  grand  party  in  honor  of  the  Governor, 
which  would  furnish  a  brilliant  conclusion  to  his  visit. 


Nantucket  Entertains  the  Governor  155 

This  party  was  given  by  Mr.  Aaron  Mitchell,  and  was 
said  to  be  the  finest  in  all  its  appointments  that  the 
island  had  yet  known.  There  was,  of  course,  no 
dancing,  but  the  number  of  beautiful  and  lively  young 
women  impressed  me  as  exceeding  anything  that  could 
be  looked  for  in  a  similar  gathering  upon  the  mainland, 
and  filled  me  with  regrets  that  we  were  to  sail  at  day- 
break the  next  morning.  My  journal  relates  how  I 
was  expressing  my  feelings  in  this  particular  to  a  bright 
bevy  of  these  girls  when  Hezekiah  Barnard  suddenly 
joined  our  group  and  put  in  this  remark :  "  Friend,  if 
thou  really  wishest  to  tarry  on  our  island,  thou  hast 
only  to  persuade  one  of  these  young  women  to  put  a 
black  cat  under  a  tub,  and  surely  there  will  be  a  head 
wind  to-morrow."  This  sailor's  superstition,  of  which 
I  had  never  heard,  was  the  cause  of  much  pleasantry. 
The  ladies  united  in  declaring  that  there  was  not  a 
black  cat  in  all  Nantucket,  they  having  been  smothered 
under  tubs  to  retain  husbands  and  brothers  who  were 
bound  for  the  southern  seas.  At  last  Miss  Baxter 
(the  prettiest  girl  in  the  room,  says  my  record)  con- 
fessed to  the  possession  of  a  black  kitten.  "But  then 
would  this  do  ?  Surely,  a  very  heavy  and  mature  pussy, 
perhaps  even  two  of  them,  would  be  required  to  keep 
a  Governor  against  his  will."  "Yes,  but  then  an  aide- 
de-camp  would  certainly  be  kept  by  a  kitten,  even  if 
it  were  not  weaned,  and  Miss  Baxter  had  only  to  dis- 
miss the  Governor  from  her  thoughts  and  concentrate 


156  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

them  upon  his  humble  attendant,  and  the  charm  would 
work."  I  do  not  know  whether  young  people  talk  in 
this  way  now,  or  whether  they  are  as  glad  as  Miss 
Baxter  and  I  were  to  find  some  topic  other  than  the 
weather  to  ring  our  simple  changes  on;  but  I  should 
refrain  from  personal  episodes  in  this  historical  epic, 
which  deals  with  the  august  movements  of  the  Gover- 
nor. It  is  well  for  us  chroniclers  to  remember  that  the 
ego  et  rex  meus  way  of  telling  things  once  got  poor 
Cardinal  Wolsey  into  a  good  deal  of  difficulty. 

"'"Wind  dead  ahead,"  were  the  words  with  which 
Mr.  Burnell  called  me  the  next  morning.  "  The  Gov- 
ernor must  spend  Sunday  on  the  island  and  we  will  show 
him  a  Quaker  meeting  and  Micajah  Coffin."  An  ac- 
count of  both  these  objects  of  interest  finds  its  place  in 
my  journal.  At  the  Friends'  Society  we  sat  for  nearly  an 
hour  in  absolute  silence,  and  this  seemed  to  me  very 
favorable  to  reflection  and  devotional  feeling.  There 
was  something  in  the  absence  of  any  human  expression 
in  the  awful  presence  of  the  Maker  which  struck  me  as 
a  more  fitting  homage  than  any  words  or  ceremony 
could  convey.  It  was  only  when  two  women  felt  them- 
selves moved  by  the  spirit  to  address  the  assembly  that 
my  feelings  underwent  a  quick  revulsion,  and  I  acknowl- 
edged that  for  the  majority  of  Christians,  at  least,  a 
trained  and  learned  clergy  would  long  be  indispensable. 

"'After  meeting,  the  Governor  and  his  staff  paid  a 
visit  of  ceremony  to  Micajah  Coffin,  the  oldest  and  most 


Nantucket  Entertains  the  Governor  157 

respected  citizen  of  the  island.  At  a  time  when  the 
ruHngs  of  etiquette  were  far  more  stringent  than  at 
present,  it  was  doubted  whether  the  representative 
of  a  sovereign  State  could  properly  call  upon  a  private 
person  who  had  not  first  waited  upon  him.  Lincoln's 
decision  that  this  case  should  be  an  exception  to  all 
general  rules  was  no  less  creditable  to  the  magistrate 
than  gratifying  to  the  islanders.  For  good  friend 
CofSn,  then  past  ninety,  was  at  times  unable  to  com- 
mand his  memory,  and  his  friends  had  not  thought  it 
right  to  subject  him  to  the  excitements  of  the  reception 
at  the  insurance  office.  For  twenty-two  years  this 
venerable  man  had  represented  Nantucket  in  the 
Massachusetts  General  Court.  In  his  youth  he  had 
worked  at  carpentering,  and  gone  whaling  in  a  sloop, 
bringing  home  on  one  occasion  two  hundred  barrels 
of  sperm  oil,  which  made  its  owner  a  rich  man.  These 
latter  particulars  I  learn  from  Mr.  William  C.  Folger 
of  Nantucket,  who  remembers  Mr.  Coffin  as  a  tall  old 
gentleman  dressed  in  the  style  of  a  past  age.  And  one 
thing  more  Mr.  Folger  mentions  of  which  the  signifi- 
cance will  presently  appear.  Benjamin  Coffin,  the 
father  of  Micajah,  was  one  of  Nantucket's  best  school- 
masters for  about  half  a  century.  I  had  been  looking 
in  vain  through  college  catalogues  to  explain  a  singu- 
lar circumstance  which  my  journal  relates,  but  the 
appearance  of  Benjamin  Coffin,  the  schoolmaster, 
suggests  the  true  solution  of  the  difficulty.     When  this 


158  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

patriarch  of  Nantucket  was  presented  to  the  Governor, 
it  made  so  little  impression  upon  him  that  he  instantly 
forgot  the  presence  of  the  chief  Magistrate;  and  yet  a 
moment  afterwards  he  astonished  us  with  one  of  those 
strange  feats  of  memory  which  show  with  how  tight  a 
grip  the  mysterious  nerve-centers  of  which  we  hear  so 
much  hold  what  has  been  committed  to  them.  For, 
having  a  dim  consciousness  that  something  out  of  the 
common  was  expected  of  him,  the  venerable  man  turned 
suddenly  upon  Postmaster  Hill  and  proceeded  to 
harangue  that  very  modest  gentleman  in  a  set  Latin 
speech.  It  was  one  of  those  occurrences  which  might 
appear  either  sad  or  droll  to  the  bystanders,  and  I  hope 
it  does  not  reflect  upon  the  good  feelings  of  the  party 
to  mention  that  we  found  its  comic  aspect  quite  irre- 
sistible. There  was  poor  Mr.  Hill,  overcome  with 
mortification  at  being  mistaken  for  the  Governor,  and 
shrinking  from  fine  Latin  superlatives  which,  under 
this  erroneous  impression,  were  discharged  at  him. 
And  when  the  Postmaster  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
address  felt  that  he  was  bound  in  courtesy  to  make 
some  response  (which  of  course  could  not  be  in  the 
vernacular),  and  could  hit  upon  nothing  better  than 
"Owr,  Monsieur,  je  vous  remercie,"  the  climax  was 
reached,  and  even  the  Governor  was  forced  to  give 
audible  expression  to  his  sense  of  the  ridiculous.  And 
thus  it  was  that  testimony  was  given  to  the.  good  in- 
struction of  Master  Benjamin  CoflSn.     The  father  had 


Nantucket  Entertains  the  Governor  159 

undoubtedly  taught  his  son  Latin  as  a  spoken  lan- 
guage, as  the  custom  formerly  was.  The  lessons  were 
given  in  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
here  am  I  in  the  concluding  fifth  of  the  nineteenth  able 
to  testify  to  the  thoroughness  of  the  teaching, 

'"Micajah  Coffin  lived  for  little  more  than  a  year 
after  the  visit  of  Lincoln.  "In  his  old  age,"  says  Mr. 
Folger,  "he  took  an  interest  in  visiting  the  sick,  and 
aiding  them  in  procuring  native  plants,  suited  to  cure, 
or  at  least  to  relieve,  their  various  maladies."  I  learn 
also  that  in  his  rambles  about  Nantucket,  when  he  met 
a  face  that  was  unknown  to  him,  he  was  accustomed 
to  stop  and  give  this  challenge:  "Friend,  my  name  is 
Micajah  Coffin;  what  is  thine.''"  It  was  the  robust 
personality  of  which  there  was  no  reason  to  be  ashamed, 
and  testifies  to  the  reasonableness  of  the  high  esteem 
in  which  liis  character  and  services  were  held. 

"'Early  Monday  morning  we  left  Nantucket  with  a 
breeze  which  carried  us  to  New  Bedford  in  six  hours. 
The  Governor's  reception  in  that  town,  the  courtesy 
of  the  Selectmen,  the  magnificent  hospitalities  of  the 
Rotches  and  Rodmans,  my  space  compels  me  to  omit. 
One  word,  however,  of  the  picture  presented  by  the 
venerable  William  Rotch,  standing  between  his  son 
and  grandson,  the  elder  gentlemen  being  in  their 
Quaker  dresses,  and  the  youngest  in  the  fashionable 
costume  of  the  day.  "You  will  never  see  a  more  ideal 
representation  of  extreme  age,  middle  life,  and  vigorous 


160  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

maturity  than  is  given  by  these  three  handsome  and 
intelligent  men,"  said  Governor  Lincoln  to  me  as  we 
left  the  house.  Up  to  this  date  at  least  his  prediction 
has  been  verified.'" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    MASHPEES,    1885 

/^^NE  of  the  strangest  anomalies  I  have  met,  in  my 
^^  rambles  over  Cape  Cod,  is  an  Indian  township, 
owned  and  officered  by  Indians ;  its  schools  and  churches 
supported  by  Indians,  and  its  public  affairs  conducted 
by  them.  The  town  is  called  Mashpee  —  the  aborigi- 
nal name  of  the  people  that  inhabit  it  —  and  lies  in  the 
southwestern  corner  of  Barnstable  County,  barely  sixty 
miles  from  Boston,  on  the  shore  of  Vineyard  Sound. 
Sandwich,  Falmouth,  and  Barnstable  are  adjoining 
towns.  In  area  it  comprises  some  sixteen  square 
miles  —  or  10,500  acres  —  much  of  it  forest,  lake,  and 
marsh.  The  existence  of  tliis  aboriginal  township  is 
almost  unknown  to  the  general  public,  and  its  history 
is  obscure  though  interesting.  Much  of  it  is  of  a  nature 
to  make  the  white  man  blush  for  his  race. 

At  the  time  the  Mayflower  furled  her  sails  off  Cape 
Cod,  the  Mashpees  were  spread  over  its  entire  surface, 
though  their  chief  villages  were  near  the  narrow  neck 
that  joins  it  to  the  mainland,  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
present  Mashpee.  After  Sandwich  and  Barnstable 
were  settled  the  churches  there  began  the  work  of 


162  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

civilizing  and  Christianizing  the  Indians  in  their  midst. 
The  Rev.  Richard  Bourne  seems  to  have  been  the  first 
resident  missionary,  having  been  installed  August  17, 
1660,  Eliot  and  other  ministers  assisting.  Before  this, 
seeing  that  the  Indians  were  rapidly  being  despoiled 
of  their  lands  by  white  settlers,  he  procured  of  them  a 
deed  for  some  twenty-two  square  miles  of  land  sur- 
rounding their  villages,  intending  that  it  should  be 
entailed  after  his  death  for  the  benefit  of  the  Indians 
and  their  children.  This  was  done,  his  son,  after  the 
father's  death,  procuring  a  ratification  of  the  deed  by 
the  court  at  Plymouth,  and  an  entailment  of  the  lands 
to  the  Indians  and  their  children  forever,  with  a  clause 
that  the  lands  should  never  be  sold  without  the  consent 
of  all  the  tribe.  This  was  the  origin  of  the  Mashpee 
reservation.  Mr.  Bourne  was  fairly  successful  in  his 
work.  In  1674  he  reported  the  number  of  "paying" 
Indians  at  Satuit,  Pawpoeset,  Coatuit,  Mashpee,  and 
Wakoquett  as  being  ninety-five,  of  which  twenty-four 
could  read  and  ten  write.  At  the  same  time  he  con- 
fessed that  many  were  loose  in  their  course,  to  his 
"heart-breaking  sorrow."  His  successor  in  the  work 
was  an  Indian  named  Solomon  Popmonet,  who  served 
the  people  forty  years.  During  his  ministry,  in  1711, 
the  Rev.  Daniel  WiUiams,  of  London,  Eng.,  bequeathed 
by  will  a  large  sum  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
"College  of  Cambridge  in  New  England,"  "for  the  work 
of  converting  the  Indians  there."     The  trustees  of  this 


The  Mashpees  163 

fund  have  since  devoted  its  proceeds  largely  to  the 
Mashpees,  and  it  now  forms  the  chief  support  of  the 
resident  missionary  among  them. 

From  1693  to  1763  the  Indians  appear  to  have  lived 
contentedly  enough  on  their  reservation,  under  the 
care  of  guardians  appointed  by  the  General  Court, 
although  they  retrograded  in  morals,  despite  the 
efforts  of  the  missionaries  vi^ho  resided  among  them. 
Fire-water,  the  bane  of  the  red  man,  seems  to  have 
been  their  greatest  enemy,  and  the  negroes  and  renegade 
white  men  who  flocked  to  the  reservation,  intermarried 
and  became  members  of  the  community,  were  a  fruit- 
ful source  of  corruption.  The  missionaries  during 
this  period  were  the  Rev.  Joseph  Bourne,  Solomon 
Bryant,  an  Indian,  and  the  Rev.  Gideon  Hawley,  of 
Stratford,  Conn.,  who  had  previously  been  a  mis- 
sionary to  the  Stockbridge  Indians  under  Jonathan 
Edwards.  Mr.  Hawley  was  not  favorably  impressed 
by  the  Mashpees  on  first  coming  among  them.  "The 
Indians,"  he  says,  "appeared  abject  and  widely  dif- 
ferent from  the  Iroquois.  They  were  clad  according 
to  the  English  mode,  but  a  half-naked  savage  was  less 
disagreeable  to  me  than  Indians  who  had  lost  their 
independence."  In  1763  the  General  Court  passed 
its  first  act  of  aggression —  an  act  erecting  Mashpee  into 
a  district.  By  this  law  the  entire  government  of  the 
tribe  was  confided  to  five  Overseers,  two  of  whom 
were  to  be  Englishmen,  to  be  elected  by  the  proprietors 


164  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

in  public  meeting.  The  act  also  provided  for  the  elec- 
tion of  a  Town  Clerk  and  Treasurer,  both  to  be  Eng- 
lishmen. A  majority  of  the  Overseers  had  the  sole 
power  to  regulate  the  fishery,  to  lease  such  lands  and 
fisheries  as  were  held  in  common  for  not  exceeding  two 
years,  and  to  allot  to  the  Indians  their  upland  and 
meadows.  The  law  was  to  continue  in  force  only 
three  years,  but  when  the  year  1766  came  the  aggres- 
sions of  the  mother  country  occupied  the  entire  atten- 
tion of  the  colony,  and  the  act  was  not  revived.  It  is 
said,  however,  that  the  Indians  still  continued  to 
choose  their  Overseers  under  the  charter  of  1763, 
though  without  authority,  and  that  it  was  the  only 
government  they  had  during  the  Revolution.  In  the 
struggle  of  the  colonies  for  liberty  the  Mashpees  sus- 
tained a  worthy  part.  Their  petition  to  the  Legisla- 
ture in  1835  recites  that  when  a  continental  regiment 
of  four  hundred  men  was  raised  in  Barnstable  County 
in  1777,  twenty-seven  Mashpee  Indians  enlisted  for 
the  whole  war.  "They  fought  through  the  war,"  it 
continues,  "and  not  one  survives.  After  the  war  our 
fathers  had  sixty  widows  left  on  the  plantation  whose 
husbands  had  died  or  been  slain."  They  were  also 
expert  whalemen,  and  aided  largely  in  manning  the 
whaling  fleets  of  Barnstable  and  New  Bedford. 

In  1788  the  oppression  of  the  poor  Mashpees  began 
in  earnest.  The  Legislature  of  that  year  repealed  all 
former  laws,  and  placed  them  absolutely  in  charge  of  a 


The  Mashpees  165 

Board  of  Guardians,  in  whose  selection  the  Indians 
had  no  choice.  There  were  at  this  time  eighty  famihes 
on  the  reservation.  This  act  reduced  them  to  virtual 
slavery.  The  Guardians  had  absolute  control  of  their 
persons  and  property.  They  leased  the  Indian  lands 
and  tenements,  drew  and  regulated  all  bargains,  con- 
tracts, and  wages,  bound  out  children  of  both  sexes  to 
the  whites  without  consent  of  their  parents,  and  could 
indenture  to  a  master  any  adult  proprietor  whom  they 
should  adjudge  an  idler  or  drunkard,  and  appropriate 
his  earnings  as  they  saw  fit.  But  this  was  not  all.  As 
years  passed  the  lands  of  the  Indians  and  their  fishing 
and  hunting  privileges  became  exceedingly  valuable, 
and  excited  the  cupidity  of  the  neighboring  whites. 
Fishermen  came  into  the  bays  and  inlets  for  the  herring 
and  mackerel  that  abounded  there.  Their  lakes  and 
preserves  were  raided  on,  and  the  hay  on  their  meadows 
and  the  wood  in  their  forests  were  cut  and  carted  away 
with  the  most  unblushing  effrontery.  During  all  this 
time  no  provision  was  made  by  the  State  for  the  educa- 
tion of  the  Indian  children.  They  had  no  benefit  of 
the  school  fund  of  the  State;  were  not  even  included  in 
the  census  returns,  and  the  Indian  children  were  bound 
out  by  the  Overseers  with  the  understanding  that  they 
were  not  to  be  educated.  In  1835,  however,  when  pub- 
lic attention  was  directed  to  the  wrongs  of  the  Mashpees, 
Massachusetts  partly  atoned  for  past  neglect  by  appro- 
priating one  hundred  dollars  annually  for  the  educa- 


166  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

tion  of  these  helpless  wards.     Their  share  as  a  town 
would  have  been  but  fifteen  dollars. 

By  1833  the  Mashpees  had  become  exceedingly 
restive  under  this  condition  of  affairs,  and  the  bolder 
spirits  among  them  were  earnestly  longing  for  liberty. 
At  length  a  village  Hampden,  Daniel  Amos,  a  ship- 
master, more  intelligent  than  his  brethren,  matured 
a  plan  for  their  escape.  A  methodist  preacher,  William 
Apes,  a  native  of  the  Pequot  tribe  of  Connecticut,  was 
the  Cromwell  whom  he  employed  to  effect  his  purpose. 
Apes  was  a  man  of  firmness,  an  eloquent  speaker,  and 
had  the  talent  and  address  which  the  Mashpees  lacked. 
In  the  course  of  a  visiting  tour  among  them,  early  in 
1833,  he  preached  for  them,  and  was  invited  to  become 
their  pastor,  they  having  become  dissatisfied  with  the 
preaching  of  the  settled  missionary,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fish. 
He  consented,  and  early  in  May  settled  among  them  as 
their  pastor.  On  the  21st  of  May  the  Mashpees 
assembled  in  their  Council-house,  and  as  their  first  act 
adopted  Mr.  Apes  as  a  member  of  the  tribe.  They 
next  prepared  two  petitions,  one  to  the  Governor  and 
Council,  complaining  against  the  Overseers  and  the 
laws  relating  to  the  tribe,  and  one  to  the  corporation 
of  Harvard  College,  against  the  missionary.  To  these 
papers  they  affixed  a  series  of  resolutions  in  the  nature 
of  a  declaration  of  independence,  as  follows :  "  Resolved, 
That  we  as  a  tribe  will  rule  ourselves,  and  have  the 
right  to  do  so ;  for  all  men  are  bom  free  and  equal,  says 


The  Mashpees  167 

the  Constitution  of  our  country."  "  Resolved,  That  we 
will  not  permit  any  white  man  to  come  upon  our  plan- 
tation to  cut  or  carry  off  wood  or  hay  or  any  other 
article,  without  our  permission,  afterthe  1st  of  July  next." 
"Resolved,  That  we  will  put  said  resolutions  in  force 
after  that  date,  with  the  penalty  of  binding  and  throw- 
ing them  from  the  plantation  if  they  will  not  stay  away 
without."  On  the  25th  of  June  succeeding  they 
adopted  a  form  of  government,  concerted  laws,  and 
appointed  officers,  twelve  in  all,  to  execute  them. 
Having  thus  organized,  they  informed  the  Overseers 
and  public  at  large  of  their  intentions  by  the  following 
"notice":  "Having  been  heretofore  distressed,  de- 
graded, and  robbed  daily,  we  have  taken  steps  to  put 
a  stop  to  these  things;  and  having  made  choice  of  our 
own  town  officers,  .  .  .  we  would  say  to  our  white 
friends,  we  are  wanting  nothing  but  our  rights  betwixt 
man  and  man.  And  now  rest  assured  that  said  reso- 
lutions will  be  enforced  after  the  first  day  of  July, 
1833."  They  then  proceeded  to  discharge  the  Over- 
seers, missionary,  and  other  officers  appointed  by  the 
State. 

These  proceedings  excited  the  utmost  surprise  and 
alarm  among  the  neighboring  whites,  and  a  messenger 
was  despatched  to  Governor  Lincoln  at  Worcester, 
apprising  him  that  an  insurrection  had  broken  out 
among  the  Mashpees,  and  praying  for  protection. 
Meantime  the  first  of  July  came,  and  the  INIashpees, 


168  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

finding  a  white  man  named  Sampson  carting  wood 
from  their  reservation,  proceeded  to  put  their  resolu- 
tions in  force.  He  was  asked  to  unload  the  stolen 
property,  and  on  his  refusing  three  or  four  of  the  Indians 
quickly  unloaded  the  cart,  the  man  being  allowed  to 
depart  unmolested.  On  receiving  news  of  the  threat- 
ened insurrection  Governor  Lincoln  despatched  an 
envoy  to  Mashpee  with  instructions  to  call  a  council  of 
the  tribe,  listen  to  their  grievances,  and,  if  possible, 
effect  an  amicable  settlement.  The  council  was  held, 
but  in  the  midst  of  its  deliberations  the  High  Sheriff  of 
Barnstable  County  approached  William  Apes  with  a 
warrant  for  his  arrest,  on  charges  of  riot,  assault,  and 
trespass,  the  complaint  being  brought  by  Sampson, 
the  man  whose  cart  had  been  unloaded  a  few  days 
before.  The  clergyman  quietly  submitted  and  accom- 
panied the  Sheriff  to  Cotuit,  where  his  examination 
was  conducted.  He  pleaded  not  guilty,  nor  were  the 
charges  sustained  by  the  witnesses  brought  against 
him,  yet  under  an  alleged  law  against  "constructive 
riot"  he  was  bound  over  to  appear  at  the  next  session 
of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  for  Barnstable  County. 
The  trial  came  off  in  due  time,  and  was  perhaps  the 
most  shameful  perversion  of  justice  that  ever  disgraced 
the  Bay  State.  The  jurors  were  bitterly  prejudiced 
against  the  prisoner.  The  Judge,  it  was  said  at  the 
time,  had  predetermined  that  he  should  be  brought  in 
guilty;  he  was  therefore  convicted,  and  sentenced  to 


The  Mashpees  169 

thirty  days'  imprisonment  with  common  felons  in  the 
county  jail.  The  sentence  created  much  comment. 
The  liberal  press  of  the  State  denounced  it  as  an  outrage, 
and  eminent  members  of  the  bar  spoke  of  it  as  a  trav- 
esty on  justice.  Apes  quietly  served  out  his  sentence, 
and  by  his  martyrdom  won  the  manumission  of  his 
brethren. 

The  publicity  given  this  affair  thoroughly  informed 
the  Commonwealth  as  to  the  true  status  of  the  Mash- 
pees before  the  law,  and  the  Legislature  of  1834  par- 
tially righted  their  wrongs  by  erecting  the  reservation 
into  a  district,  and  allowing  them  the  right  of  choosing 
their  local  officers.  The  odious  feature  of  a  Commis- 
sioner to  supervise  their  affairs  was  still  retained,  how- 
ever, to  the  great  dissatisfaction  of  the  people,  and  it 
was  not  until  1842  that  the  office  was  abolished,  and 
the  Indians  allowed  to  manage  their  affairs  in  their 
own  way.  Up  to  that  time  the  lands  of  the  reserva- 
tion had  been  held  in  common;  now  they  were  appor- 
tioned among  the  "proprietors,"  each  one,  whether 
male  or  female,  receiving  sixty  acres  as  his  or  her  own. 
Several  thousand  acres  remained  undivided,  and  were 
sold  in  1870  for  $7,700  for  the  benefit  of  the  tribe.  Uni- 
versal suffrage  made  the  Indian,  as  well  as  the  negro, 
a  citizen,  and  in  1870  Mashpee  was  incorporated  a 
town,  and  has  since  continued  to  enjoy  municipal 
privileges. 

Desirous  of  judging  for  himself  of  the  present  con- 


170  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

dition  and  prospects  of  this  ancient  people,  the  writer 
recently  paid  them  a  visit.  Sandwich,  on  the  Old 
Colony  road,  a  pretty  village,  noted  for  its  production 
of  fine  glassware,  is  the  nearest  point  reached  by  rail- 
way, and  there  I  took  a  carriage  for  the  Indian  village, 
some  ten  miles  distant.  Our  road  led  over  the  back- 
bone of  the  Cape,  through  the  oak  scrub  so  common 
to  the  region,  but  now  scorched  and  blackened  by  one 
of  the  terrible  fires  that  periodically  ravage  it.  We 
could  see  the  fire  raging  then,  two  or  three  miles  to  the 
westward,  and  had  learned  before  setting  out  that  it 
had  burned  two  or  three  barns  and  farmhouses  in  West 
Sandwich  the  night  before.  We  had  striking  proof  of 
its  energy  in  the  green  leaves  burned  from  the  oaks  to 
their  summits,  and  in  the  ease  with  which  it  had  leaped 
the  roadway  to  continue  its  destructive  work  beyond. 
Near  the  verge  of  the  burnt  district  we  saw  a  deep, 
wide  trench  leading  into  the  forest,  which  the  driver 

—  a  Mashpee  Indian,  by  the  way,  and  quite  intelligent 

—  said  extended  for  several  miles,  and  had  been  dug  by 
the  citizens  to  stop  the  spread  of  the  flames.  A  little 
further  on  we  met  a  warden  pacing  liis  appointed  beat, 
to  see  that  no  embers  were  whirled  over  the  line  into 
the  dry  leaves,  to  start  a  new  conflagration.  Six  miles 
out  we  came  to  the  crest  of  a  hill  and  looked  down  upon 
a  beautiful  lake  some  three  miles  long,  covering  the 
whole  area  of  a  narrow  valley.  Its  shores  were  irregu- 
lar and  wooded,  and  there  were  two  green  islands  in 


The  Mashpees  171 

its  center.  The  driver  called  it  Mashpee  Pond,  and 
expatiated  largely  on  the  fine  trout,  pickerel,  perch, 
and  bass  to  be  taken  in  its  waters.  We  swept  around 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  pond,  and  in  half  an  hour  were 
at  Mashpee  —  a  hamlet  of  thirty  or  forty  one-story 
cottages,  most  of  them  unpainted,  and  scattered  about 
in  the  open  fields.  The  Rev.  William  Hurst,  of  the 
Baptist  Church,  is  now  the  resident  missionary,  and 
from  him  I  gathered  some  interesting  particulars  of 
the  present  condition  of  the  Indians.  There  are  some 
three  hundred  and  fifty  members  of  the  tribe  now 
living  in  the  town,  of  whom  only  two  or  three  are 
pure  bloods.  They  live  in  some  seventy  dwellings, 
scattered  over  the  reservation.  The  church  stands 
near  the  center  of  the  town,  a  plain  edifice,  differ- 
ing little  from  the  ordinary  country  chapel.  I  was 
struck  with  the  aptness  of  William  Apes's  descrip- 
tion written  in  1832:  "The  sacred  edifice  stood  in 
the  midst  of  a  noble  forest,  and  seemed  to  be  about 
one  hundred  years  old.  Hard  by  was  an  Indian 
burial-ground,  overgrown  with  pines,  in  which  the 
graves  were  ranged  north  and  south.  A  delightful 
brook,  fed  by  some  of  the  sweetest  springs  in  Massa- 
chusetts, murmured  beside  it."  Mr.  Hurst  preaches 
to  a  congregation  of  from  seventy-five  to  one  hundred 
each  Sunday,  and  has  a  membership  of  sixty,  only  one 
of  whom  is  white.  He  derives  his  support  in  part  from 
the  Indians,  but  chiefly  from  the  Williams  fund,  which 


172  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

yields  an  annual  stipend  of  $550.  There  is  a  parsonage 
and  an  acre  of  land  belonging  to  the  parish.  A  Sunday 
school  is  held  the  year  round.  There  are  frequent 
temperance  concerts  and  lectures,  and  a  lyceum  is 
maintained  in  the  winter. 

Mr.  Hurst  reports  his  parishoiers  fully  up  to  the 
average   of  white   communities    in   morals   and   piety. 

The  women  are  much  more  industrious  than  the  men, 
showing  the  force  of  inherited  tendencies,  but  the  latter 
are  much  more  ambitious  and  thrifty  than  formerly. 
They  till  their  fields,  hunt,  fish,  pick  berries,  work  on 
the  cranberry  bogs,  of  which  there  are  several  in  the 
town,  and  follow  the  sea.  Two  schools  were  kept  in  the 
town  the  past  season  — one  by  a  young  gentleman  from 
Boston,  the  other  by  the  pastor's  daughter,  the  average 
attendance  being  seventy-six.  I  visited  several  of  the 
Indians  at  their  homes.  Solomon  Attaguin,  a  tall, 
dignified,  finely  formed  old  man,  is  chief  among  them, 
being  postmaster,  justice  of  the  peace,  and  tavern 
keeper.  He  favored  me  with  a  clear  and  intelligent 
history  of  his  people,  differing  little  from  the  account 
given  in  the  books,  and  entertained  me  with  accounts 
of  his  own  prowess  in  the  hunt,  and  of  the  adventures  of 
Boston  sportsmen  who  had  come  down  every  autumn 
to  hunt  deer  and  wild  fowl.  It  seemed  odd  to  hear  of 
stalking  deer  within  sixty  miles  of  Boston. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

PROVINCETOWN 

TT  is  doubtful  if  another  village  can  be  found  so 
■•■  sinned  against  by  the  literary  guild  as  Provincetown. 
Three  generations  of  writers  have  made  it  a  target  for 
their  wit,  and  the  place  has  come  to  be  viewed  by  the 
outside  world  only  through  an  atmosphere  of  metaphor 
and  exaggerated  description.  Without  question,  there 
is  much  of  the  quaint  and  primitive  in  the  village,  and 
many  elsewhere  obsolete  customs  obtain,  but  I  think 
the  serious  student  in  his  study  of  the  town  will  be 
moved  not  so  much  by  his  sense  of  the  grotesque  as  by 
admiration  for  the  courage  and  energy  that  founded 
and  has  sustained  a  village  on  this  sand  heap,  miles 
away  from  any  center  of  supplies. 

From  Town  Hill,  an  immense  sand  dune  overtopping 
the  village  roofs,  one  gets  an  admirable  idea  of  the 
town's  isolated  and  exposed  position.  The  summit 
of  this  hill  is  encircled  by  an  iron  fence,  and,  being  well 
supplied  with  settees,  makes  a  delightfully  unique  park, 
much  affected  by  the  townsmen.  Looking  east,  the 
place  is  seen  extending  for  three  miles  along  the  curve 
of  a  harbor,  that,  for  perfect  protection  from  wind  and 


174  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

wave,  is  the  wonder  of  the  physicist.  If  one  stretches 
out  both  arms,  then  curves  right  fingers,  hand,  and 
arm,  bringing  it  within  an  inch  of  his  outstretched  left, 
he  will  describe  the  configuration  of  Provincetown 
Harbor  —  his  right  arm  representing  Long  Point,  the 
extreme  tip  of  Cape  Cod,  and  his  body  and  left  arm 
the  north  shore  of  the  cape,  trending  toward  the  main 
land.  The  harbor  has  a  depth  of  from  three  to  four- 
teen fathoms,  and  is  two  miles  in  width.  The  town 
is  an  irregular  mass  of  wooden  buildings,  built  on  the 
narrow  beach,  barely  one  hundred  feet  wide,  which 
intervenes  between  the  water  and  the  sand-hills.  Two 
narrow  streets  follow  the  trend  of  the  coast,  thickly 
lined  with  stores  and  dwellings.  Until  within  a  few 
years  these  streets  were  mere  sand,  through  which  horse 
and  pedestrian  waded  toilsomely,  but  of  late  earth  and 
gravel  have  been  carted  in  and  a  solid  roadbed  formed, 
while  a  narrow  plank-walk  has  been  laid  on  one  side 
of  the  street.  Along  the  water-front  the  old  town  is 
seen  in  its  purity;  quaint,  weather-beaten  structures 
are  here:  cooper's  shop,  boat-shop,  fish-house,  ship- 
chandler's  stores,  commission  ofiices,  and  in  striking 
contrast  the  neatly-painted  village  hotel,  built  on  piles 
over  the  bay,  its  favored  guests  lulled  to  sleep  every 
night  by  the  ripple  of  the  waves.  On  the  docks  fisher- 
men are  cleaning  the  morning's  catch  of  mackerel,  and 
"Bankers"  just  in  are  landing  the  spoil  won  from  the 
Banks  or  stormy  Labrador.     In  open  spaces  between 


Provincetown  175 

the  docks  long  lines  of  dories  are  drawn  up,  nets  are 
drying  in  the  sun,  and  codfish  are  curing  in  flakes,  or 
lie  piled  in  immense  heaps,  waiting  for  the  packer. 
The  dwellings  are  nestled  near  the  bases  of  the  dunes: 
some  homes  of  wealth  and  refinement,  furnished  with 
all  modern  appointments,  some  quaint  and  venerable; 
some  hidden  in  trees  and  shrubbery,  others  bare  to  the 
sun;  and  some,  in  the  Portuguese  quarter,  squalid  and 
poverty-stricken. 

Looking  landward  from  our  hilltop,  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach,  one  sees  an  arid  waste  of  sand  heaped  in 
curiously  shaped  hills,  some  covered  with  beach  grass, 
some  with  scrub  oak  and  stunted  shrubs,  others  bare 
and  white  in  the  sunlight.  It  is  hardly  three  miles 
across  from  Massachusetts  Bay  on  the  north  to  the 
Atlantic  on  the  south. 

Nothing  edible  can  be  raised  on  these  sand  heaps. 
Provincetown  cattle  are  fed  on  hay  and  grain  imported 
from  Boston.  The  butter,  vegetables,  and  fruit  on  the 
hotel  table  come  from  far  down  the  Cape. 

Nothing  is  indigenous  but  fish,  and  one's  first  query 
is  how  a  town  came  to  be  founded  at  all  on  the  further 
end  of  this  desolate  sand  spit.  It  was  the  ocean,  and 
above  all  the  harbor,  that  gave  it  its  excuse  for  being. 

Gosnold  first  discovered  the  harbor  in  1602,  and 
rested  here  several  days,  refitting  his  bark.  Hendrik 
Hudson  put  in  here  in  1609,  a  few  weeks  before  the 
discovery  of  the  Hudson.     In  his  journal,  under  date 


176  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

of  June  15,  1609,  he  gives  a  quaint  account  of  his  dis- 
covery of  a  mermaid  which  will  bear  repeating:  "  Here," 
he  says,  "we  saw  a  mermaid  in  the  water,  looking  up 
earnestly  at  the  men.  From  the  waist  up,  her  back  and 
breasts  like  a  woman's,  her  body  as  big  as  one  of  us, 
her  skin  very  white,  and  long  hair  hanging  down  be- 
hind, of  color  black.  In  her  going  down  they  saw  her 
tail,  like  the  tail  of  a  porpoise,  and  speckled  like  mack- 
erel." The  harbor  has  a  place  on  Captain  John  Smith's 
map  of  1614  as  Milford  Haven.  When  the  Mayflower 
was  nearing  the  American  coast  she  cast  anchor  here 
on  the  11th  of  November,  1620.  The  men  went  ashore 
to  explore,  to  talk  with  the  Indians,  and  gather  odorous 
woods  —  birch,  sassafras,  spruce  —  which  then  grew 
in  abundance  on  the  sand-hills;  the  women  to  do  their 
washing  at  a  spring  of  soft  water  that  gushed  out  on  the 
beach.  Here  the  famous  compact  was  signed  and 
Peregrine  White  was  born.  The  grave  elders,  however, 
saw  no  site  for  their  town  on  these  sands,  and  after  a 
few  days  the  Mayflower  coasted  along  the  shores  of 
Cape  Cod.  The  Pilgrims  discovered  vast  schools  of 
cod  and  other  food  fish  in  these  waters,  which  was  re- 
ported in  England,  and  drew  many  vessels  from  thence 
which  engaged  in  the  fishery.  Later  colonial  vessels 
resorted  thither.  Then  a  few  fishermen  built  huts  on  the 
shore,  the  better  to  pursue  their  calling,  and  Province- 
town  was  founded.  It  was  made  a  district  in  1714, 
in  connection  with  Truro,  the  adjoining  town,  and  in 


Provincetown  177 

1727  was  formed  into  a  township,  the  inhabitants,  from 
their  exposed  and  perilous  position,  being  exempted 
from  taxation  and  military  duty.  By  1748,  we  are 
told,  so  many  had  removed  or  been  lost  at  sea  that  only 
three  houses  were  left.  The  census  of  1764  makes  no 
mention  of  it.  Tliirty-six  families  were  reported  in 
1776.  Its  experience  in  the  war  of  1812  will  bear  relat- 
ing. The  fine  harbor  and  good  water  caused  it  to  be 
made  a  rendezvous  for  the  British  fleet  during  the  entire 
war.  Only  a  few  weeks  after  war  was  declared  a  Brit- 
ish squadron,  commanded  by  Commodore  Hayes, 
dropped  anchor  in  the  harbor.  For  men  to  whom  free 
egress  to  the  ocean  was  indispensable  to  a  livelihood 
this  proceeding  was  most  alarming.  The  Commodore, 
however,  quickly  divined  their  trouble,  and  sent  them 
a  permit  allowing  the  fishing-boats  to  go  out,  on  con- 
dition that  the  townsmen  filled  his  casks  with  water. 
This  was  done,  the  boats  coming  in  with  full  cargoes, 
and  the  old  men  and  boys  filling  the  water-casks  and 
rolling  them  to  the  water's  edge.  But  the  shrewd 
fishermen  were  guilty  of  a  trick  which  the  Britons  little 
suspected.  The  overplus  of  fish  caught  they  pickled, 
then  conveyed  stealtliily  in  their  dories  to  Sandwich, 
hauled  boats  and  cargoes  across  Cohasset  Narrows 
with  oxen,  then  launched  them  on  Buzzard's  Bay,  and 
sped  away  to  New  London,  New  Haven,  and  even  to 
New  York,  where  they  exchanged  their  fish  for  flour, 
sugar,  and  other  necessaries,  which  were  returned  in 


178  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

the  same  manner  to  Provincetown.  After  the  war  the 
growth  of  the  fisheries  was  rapid,  and  the  town  rose 
from  a  population  of  812  in  1814  to  3,096  in  1855.  The 
census  of  1880  gives  it  a  population  of  4,443. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Martha's  vineyard,  1882 

/^~\NE  summer  day,  in  1882,  at  the  old  whaling  port 
^-^  of  New  Bedford,  we  boarded  the  steamer  River 
Queen  for  the  Vineyard.  Our  steamer  we  soon  dis- 
covered to  have  a  history,  having  been  President 
Lincoln's  despatch  boat  during  the  late  war,  and  on 
board  of  her,  at  Hampton  Roads,  in  that  memo- 
rable February  of  1865,  he  met  the  Peace  Commis- 
sioners to  arrange  the  terms  of  the  great  treaty. 
It  was  some  satisfaction  to  know  that  the  armchairs 
and  other  furniture  of  the  cabin  were  the  same  used 
on  that  famous  occasion.  To-day  the  Queen  ploughs 
the  waves  as  sturdily  as  any  craft  of  more  prosaic 
antecedents.  Our  direction  is  nearly  due  east,  across 
Buzzard's  Bay.  Land  is  in  sight  on  all  sides. 
Southward  a  great  whaler  looms  up  while  making  her 
offing.  Another  is  coming  in,  escorted  by  a  tug.  A 
hundred  sails  fleck  the  bay.  Fishing-boats,  "held  to 
the  wind  and  slanting  low,"  are  trolhng  for  bluefish 
and  bass.  The  incoming  Vineyard  steamer  sweeps  by 
cityward,  with  a  salute.  The  sky  is  as  blue  as  the 
waves,  and  the  salt  sea-breeze  exhilarates  one  like  new 


180  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

wine.  By  and  by  —  it  is  an  hour  and  a  half,  to  be 
exact  —  we  approach  the  opposite  shores  —  the  EHza- 
beth  Isles  —  and  seem  to  be  running  directly  upon 
them,  when  suddenly  we  veer  to  the  west  and  enter  a 
narrow  passage  that  for  its  rocks,  currents,  and  general 
intricacy  must  have  been  made  solely  for  Captain  Kidd 
and  other  freebooters.  It  connects  Buzzard's  Bay  with 
Vineyard  Sound.  Jagged  boulders  rise  perilously 
near  the  steamer,  and  the  water  rushes  through  with  the 
velocity  of  a  mill-race ;  but  our  captain  has  never  known 
an  accident  to  occur  here. 

Through  this  passage  the  steamer  picks  her  way, 
stopping  in  the  midst  of  it  at  Wood's  Holl,  terminus 
of  the  Wood's  Holl  branch  of  the  Old  Colony  Railroad, 
to  receive  passengers  from  Boston  to  the  Vineyard. 
Then  it  goes  on,  and  a  few  moments  later  glides  out 
into  Vineyard  Sound,  and  we  see  across  its  water,  seven 
miles  distant,  a  low,  irregularly  outlined  island,  whose 
salient  features  seem  to  be  clay  headlands,  barren  plains, 
and  hills  crowned  with  groves  of  stunted  oaks.  This 
is  Martha's  Vineyard,  seen  at  its  northern  and  most 
sparsely  populated  end.  It  is  twenty  miles  long  east 
and  west,  the  captain  tells  us,  and  twelve  in  width.  Its 
northern,  western,  and  southern  shores  contain  scarcely 
a  hamlet,  and  but  a  few  scattered  farmers  and  fisher- 
men for  inhabitants.  The  eastern  shore  is  but  a  suc- 
cession of  cottage  cities  —  Vineyard  Haven,  Eastville 
Highlands,  Oak  Bluffs,  Edgartown,  and  Katama. 


Martha's  Vineyard  181 

Martha's  Vineyard,  so  recently  discovered  by  the 
moderns,  is  really  quite  venerable  in  history.  That 
famous  navigator,  Bartholomew  Gosnold,  discovered  it 
in  1602,  sailing  southward  from  Cape  Cod,  and  landing 
here  to  get  water  for  his  sliips  and  provisions  from  the 
Indians.  He  found  here  trees,  shrubs,  and  luxuriant 
grape-vines,  and  the  natural  inference  is  that  he  gave 
the  island  its  peculiar  name.  But  from  the  pleasant 
after-dinner  talk  of  the  antiquaries  of  the  Corn  Ex- 
change here  in  Edgartown,  I  gather  that  there  is  a  differ- 
ent version  of  its  origin.  All  these  coast  islands  —  so 
the  legend  runs  —  once  belonged  to  a  great  magnate, 
who  was  blessed  with  four  daughters.  Dying,  he  gave 
Rhode  Island  to  his  daughter  Rhoda,  the  Elizabeth  Isles 
to  Elizabeth,  Martha's  Vineyard  to  Martha.  Here  he 
died,  and  as  to  the  fourth  island,  the  last  daughter  Nan- 
took-it. 

Most  visitors  to  the  Vineyard  stop  at  Cottage  City,  of 
which  I  shall  speak  more  at  length  presently,  but  Edgar- 
town  has  proved  more  attractive  to  me.  It  is  quaint, 
old-fashioned,  wealthy,  conservative,  one  of  the  oldest 
towns  on  the  continent,  for  it  has  been  well  estabUshed 
by  the  village  antiquarians,  that  a  famous  recluse, 
Martin  Pring,  landed  here  seventeen  years  before  the 
coming  of  the  Pilgrims,  and  here  lived,  a  settled  inhabi- 
tant, from  June  until  August.  No  permanent  settle- 
ment was  effected,  however,  until  1642,  when  Thomas 
May  hew  founded  a  colony  here,  and  in  1671  succeeded 


182  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

in  having  it  incorporated  a  town  by  the  Government 
of  New  York,  with  himself  as  Governor.  The  town 
was  one  of  the  earhest  ports  to  engage  in  the  whale 
fishery;  indeed,  the  islanders  have  a  saying  that  it  was 
founded  on  the  backs  of  the  whales  it  captured.  The 
delightful  old  mansions  that  line  its  streets  were  gained 
in  this  way;  and  the  portly,  well-preserved  old  gentle- 
men, who  hve  in  them,  and  who  retail  such  pleasant 
marine  gossip  and  old-time  sea  tales  in  the  Corn  Ex- 
change of  a  morning,  were  the  men  who  pushed  the 
enterprise  forty  years  ago.  It  has  a  fine  harbor  and 
an  abundance  of  pure  water,  and  was  a  famous  resort 
for  Nantucket  whalemen  in  other  days.  The  town  is 
very  proud,  too,  of  its  record  in  the  war  of  the  Revolu- 
tion and  in  that  of  1812.  Its  exposed  position  sub- 
jected it  to  frequent  descents  from  the  enemy.  On  the 
10th  of  September,  1778,  for  instance,  the  frigate  Scor- 
pion burned  in  its  harbor  one  brig  of  150  tons,  one 
schooner  of  seventy  tons,  and  twenty-two  whale-boats, 
and  captured  in  the  town  388  stand  of  arms,  with  bay- 
onets, pouches,  powder,  and  lead.  The  enemy  also 
took  from  the  farmers  of  the  vicinity  at  various  times 
300  oxen  and  10,000  sheep.  The  town  is  also  the  capital 
of  the  island,  being  the  county-seat  of  Duke  County, 
which  embraces  the  Vineyard  and  Elizabeth  Isles,  and 
is  fully  conscious  of  the  dignity  of  its  position.  The 
Vineyard  affords  some  striking  contrasts.  Here  in 
Edgartown  are  old  houses  built  by  governors,  judges. 


Martha's  Vineyard  183 

and  elders  two  centuries  ago,  and  in  the  Httle  private 
burial-places  are  headstones  of  these  worthies  quite  as 
mossy  and  venerable.  In  fifteen  minutes,  taking  the 
little  narrow-gage  railway  that  skirts  the  eastern  shore, 
you  stand  in  busy,  bustling  Cottage  City,  fresh  from 
the  builder's  hands,  a  center  of  modern  activity. 

This  city  might  be  aptly  characterized  as  a  modern 
miracle.  To-day  fifty  thousand  people  are  gathered 
in  its  cottages.  Six  weeks  hence  there  will  not  remain 
as  many  hundreds.  Twenty  years  ago  it  was  repre- 
sented by  a  few  tents.  To-day  it  has  avenues  with 
cottages,  public  parks  and  drives,  concrete  streets,  miles 
of  shops,  a  horse  railroad,  hotels,  churches,  schools  of 
fame,  a  Board  of  Health,  a  Fire  Department,  a  city 
charter,  and  other  municipal  conveniences  and  privi- 
leges. The  town  is  built  on  ground  that  rises  gently 
from  the  shores  of  Vineyard  Sound,  and  is  prettily  laid 
out  in  avenues,  squares,  circles,  triangles,  and  parks. 
The  cottages  are  ranged  along  the  side  of  the  street  in 
most  cases  as  thickly  as  hives  in  an  apiary,  and  present 
all  gradations,  from  the  tent-roofed  cot  to  the  ornate 
Elizabethan  villa.  The  shops  have  a  quarter  to  them- 
selves ;  the  great  hotels  are  on  or  near  the  beach. 

One  cannot  be  said  to  have  fairly  seen  cottage  life 
until  he  has  visited  this  summer  city.  A  walk  through 
one  of  its  streets  affords  the  stranger  a  novel  experience. 
It  may  be  Pequot,  Massasoit,  Hiawatha,  Acushnet, 
Pocasset,  Samoset,  or  Tuckernuck  Avenues  that  you 


184  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

take,  for  all  these  names,  and  many  others  of  aboriginal 
origin,  are  found  in  the  city.  It  begins  at  one  of  the 
circles,  and  curves  about  gracefully  between  grass-plots 
and  flower-beds,  and  beneath  young  oaks,  until  it 
debouches  on  one  of  the  parks.  The  first  cottage  you 
meet  is  of  the  simplest  kind,  perhaps,  known  here  as 
"tent-roofed,"  and,  the  curtains  in  front  being  drawn 
to  admit  air,  its  internal  arrangements  can  be  studied 
to  advantage.  They  seem  to  be  intended  entirely  for 
sleeping.  Each  apartment  is  separated  from  the  other 
by  curtains,  and  is  furnished  with  carpet,  chairs,  wash- 
stand,  and  a  dimity-clad  cot  at  each  side.  Kitchen 
and  dining-room  are  invisible,  and  you  are  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  occupants  take  their  meals  at  the 
boarding-houses.  Cottages  in  every  variety  of  style  — 
Chinese  pagoda,  Greek  villa,  modern  Elizabethan  — 
succeed  as  you  pass  along,  and  quite  likely  you  will 
find,  fronting  the  park,  a  fine  country  seat,  with  all  city 
conveniences,  there  being  several  of  these  on  the  island. 
The  cottagers  are  seated  in  front  of  their  dwellings, 
recline  on  couches,  or  swing  in  hammocks,  under  the 
oaks.  Here,  as  at  other  summer  resorts,  a  dearth 
of  gentlemen  is  apparent,  the  fair  sex  greatly  pre- 
dominating. It  is  a  mild  form  of  dissipation  that 
obtains  here.  Lectures,  sacred  concerts,  and  camp- 
meetings  are  the  chief.  There  are  billiard  saloons, 
bowling  alleys,  bicycle  clubs,  and  a  great  roller-skat- 
ing rink,  but  no  liquor  shops  or  gambling  dens.     Fish- 


Martha's  Vineyard  185 

ing,    sailing,    driving,   bathing,    and    tea-drinking    are 
popular. 

The  social  and  religious  features  of  Cottage  City  have 
been  often  dwelt  on :  a  sketch  of  its  marvelous  develop- 
ment v^'ill  perhaps  have  more  of  the  merit  of  novelty.. 
The  city  is  divided  into  three  principal  sections  — 
Wesleyan  Grove,  Oak  Bluffs,  and  Vineyard  Highlands 
—  which  began  as  little  centers  of  population  and  spread 
until  they  now  form  a  corporate  whole.  Wesleyan 
Grove,  the  oldest,  had  its  inception  at  a  Methodist 
camp-meeting  held  on  its  site  in  1835.  At  this  meeting 
there  were  a  rude  shed  for  the  preacher's  stand,  rough 
planks  for  seats,  and  only  nine  tents,  furnished  with 
straw,  for  lodgings  and  shelter.  Thomas  C.  Pierce, 
father  of  the  late  editor  of  Ziori's  Herald,  presided, 
and  there  were  about  a  thousand  persons  present. 
Since  that  time,  with  the  single  exception  of  1845,  an 
annual  "camp"  has  been  held  here.  In  1841,  twenty 
tents  were  reported.  In  1844  three  thousand  persons 
were  present.  In  1850,  a  lease  of  the  Grove,  running 
till  1861,  was  secured,  at  an  annual  rental  of  thirty  dol- 
lars. In  1853  there  were  four  thousand  persons 
present.  In  1855  two  hundred  tents  were  pitched  in 
the  grove,  and  two  steamboats  made  daily  trips  from 
New  Bedford.  Sunday,  1858,  was  a  red-letter  day. 
Twelve  thousand  persons  were  present,  including 
Governor  Banks,  of  Massachusetts,  ex-Governor 
Harris,  of  Rhode  Island,  several  members  of  Congress, 


186  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  more  than  one  hundred  ministers  of  various 
denominations.  In  1859  the  grove  began  its  meta- 
morphosis from  a  camp  to  a  permanent  city.  This 
year  Perez  Mason,  a  wealthy  layman,  of  Providence, 
erected  a  cottage  in  the  grove  and  spent  the  summer 
there  with  his  family.  Other  laymen  built  other  cot- 
tages, following  his  example,  and  from  this  humble 
beginning  Cottage  City  has  sprung.  The  annual  camp- 
meeting  is  still  held  in  a  grove  of  venerable  oaks,  a  few 
minutes'  walk  from  the  Oak  Bluffs  wharf,  generally 
during  the  latter  part  of  August. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

NORTHAMPTON 

'VrORTHAMPTON  —  Jenny  Lind's  paradise,  the 
"^^  only  corollary  Fanny  Kemble  could  find  to  her 
beloved  Lenox  —  is  spread  all  over  one  of  the  foot-hills 
of  the  Connecticut  valley :  it  is  an  anomaly  among  country 
towns.  Its  main  street  is  not  a  street  at  all,  but  a  park, 
a  plaza,  a  common,  reaching  from  the  river  bottom  to 
the  summit  of  the  hill.  Its  buildings  have  none  of  that 
air  of  having  been  hastily  thrown  together  which  char- 
acterizes those  of  modern  towns.  Each  house  has  its 
lawn  in  front,  its  trim  box- wood  walks  and  shrubbery; 
one  sees  scarcely  an  untidy,  ill-kept  place  in  the  town. 
The  wide  valley  of  the  Connecticut  is  above  and  below ; 
in  front,  across  the  river,  rises  the  hoary  head  of  Mount 
Holyoke,  and  opposite  him,  overtopping  us,  is  Mount 
Tom,  not  quite  so  high,  but  fully  as  rugged.  A  good 
carriage  road  ascends  Mount  Holyoke  to  within  600 
feet  of  the  summit,  whence  a  railway  completes  the 
ascent.  Arrived  at  the  summit  one  finds  a  comfortable 
summer  hotel  and  a  noble  view.  The  Connecticut 
crawls  lazily  through  its  meadows  for  miles  beneath. 
You  can  see  the  smoke  of  Springfield's  furnaces  seven- 


188  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

teen  miles  to  the  southward ;  half  a  score  of  villages, 
some  alive  with  looms  and  spindles,  some  drowsily 
nodding  under  century-old  elms,  are  within  the  range 
of  vision. 

There  is  Holyoke,  with  its  great  paper-mills,  and 
Easthampton,  in  the  shadow  of  Mount  Tom,  with  its 
famous  boys'  school  and  its  shaded  main  street,  which 
I  once  heard  a  party  of  tourists  comparing  with  that  of 
Easthampton,  L.  I.  Manufactories  are  crowding  in 
there  now  to  disturb  its  quiet,  scholarly  air.  Here  in 
Hadley,  which  lies  just  across  the  Connecticut  from 
Northampton,  Dr.  Holland  laid  the  scene  of  "  Katlirina," 
and  there  is  still  left  material  for  many  a  poem  and 
romance.  The  glory  of  old  Hadley  is  its  elms.  Wide- 
spreading  and  ancient,  they  enclose  an  oval-shaped 
common  nearly  a  mile  long,  of  quiet,  solitary  beauty. 
All  the  grown-up  sons  and  daughters  are  away  in 
the  cities.  The  narrow  avenue  formed  by  the  double 
row  of  elms  on  the  west  side  of  the  park  seemed 
to  us  beautiful  enough  to  often  allure  them  back  to 
the  town  of  their  birth.  In  South  Hadley  is  a  famous 
female  seminary,  whose  graduates  have  had  a  notable 
habit  of  becoming  missionaries'  wives.  Amherst,  with  her 
spires  and  college  buildings,  peeps  out  among  the  hills 
but  eight  miles  away.  If  we  turn  our  eyes  westward, 
they  rest  on  the  noble  Berkshire  Hills,  and  further 
north  on  the  Hoosac  range,  walling  in  the  valleys  of 
the  Housatonic,  the  Deerfield  and  the  Hoosac. 


Northampton  189 

Amid  all  these  villages  Northampton  is  preeminent. 
The  artist  or  author  finds  here  an  exceedingly  con- 
genial atmosphere.  Here  is  no  hurry,  no  rush  for 
wealth  or  place.  Almost  every  householder  is  but- 
tressed with  a  substantial  bank  account,  and  at  leisure 
to  devote  himself  to  art,  to  local  history,  to  gossip,  or 
to  any  occupation  to  which  his  tastes  incline.  An  air 
reflective,  historical,  pervades  the  town.  Much  atten- 
tion is  paid  to  genealogy  and  antiquities.  Visit  any 
of  these  fine  old  houses,  and  you  find  family  legends 
and  relics  carefully  treasured.  The  visitor  is  not  long 
here  before  he  learns  that  Jonathan  Edwards  made  his 
first  essays  at  preaching  in  the  town,  and  he  is  taken 
down  King  Street  to  see  the  site  of  the  home  he  inhabited 
for  twenty-three  years,  with  its  hoary  elm  in  front,  in 
the  fork  of  which  the  divine  wrote  some  of  his  wonder- 
ful sermons;  then  you  are  led  back  to  the  main  street 
and  up  the  hill  to  look  on  the  Edwards  Church,  a  some- 
what imposing  edifice  that  now  occupies  the  site  of  the 
plain  meeting-house  in  which  he  delivered  them. 
Edwards  left  his  tutorship  in  Yale  College  in  the  winter 
of  1726  to  become  the  colleague  of  his  maternal  grand- 
father, the  Rev.  Solomon  Stoddard,  who  had  become 
too  infirm  to  perform  alone  the  duties  of  his  office.  I 
heard  some  pleasant  gossip  of  this  family  —  the  Stod- 
dards  —  which  will  bear  repeating. 

"The  Rev.  Solomon  Stoddard,  Edwards's  grand- 
father," said   my  informant,  "was  the  fourth   pastor 


190  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

of  Northampton.  His  wife,  Mrs.  Esther  Stoddard, 
when  he  married  her,  was  the  widow  of  the  Rev. 
Eleazer  Mather,  his  predecessor  in  the  sacred  ojffice. 
They  reared  a  somewhat  remarkable  family  of  girls. 
The  oldest,  Mary,  married  the  Rev.  Stephen  Mix, 
the  promising  pastor  of  a  neighboring  charge.  Their 
courtship  was  a  novel  one,  even  for  that  day.  He 
proposed  for  her  to  her  father,  and  suggested  that  she 
should  take  due  time  for  consideration.  She  did  so, 
and  after  several  weeks  wrote  the  following  laconic 
note: 

"'November,  1695. 

"'Rev.  Stephen  Mix: 

"'Yes.  Mart  Stoddard.' 

"The  second  daughter,  Esther,  who  had  been  well 
educated  at  Boston,  married  the  Rev.  Timothy 
Edwards,  of  East  Windsor,  Conn.,  with  whom  she 
lived  happily  for  sixty-three  years.  Of  their  eleven 
children,  all  but  one  were  girls,  and  that  one  boy  be- 
came the  celebrated  divine,  Jonathan  Edwards.  I 
once  saw  a  letter  written  by  Mrs.  Stoddard,  his  grand- 
mother, to  his  mother  at  the  time  of  his  birth,  which 
interested  me  so  much  that  I  copied  it.     Here  it  is : 

"'Dear  Daughter:  God  be  thanked  for  yr  safe 
delivery  and  raising  you  up  to  health  again.  We  are 
under  mixt  dispensations;  We  have  a  great  deal  of 


« 


c    o 
^  I 


Northampton  191 

mercy,  and  we  have  smart  afflictions.  Eliakim  is  not, 
and  Eunice  is  not,  and  it  hath  pleased  God  to  take 
away  your  dear  brother  Israel  also,  who  was  taken  by 
the  French  and  carried  to  a  place  called  Brest  in  France, 
and  being  ready  to  be  transported  to  England  died 
there. 

"'P.S.  I  would  have  sent  you  half  a  thousand  of 
pins  and  a  porringer  of  marmalade  if  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity.' 

"  Four  other  daughters  married  clergymen,  but  there 
was  nothing  in  their  courtships  or  wedded  lives  so 
marked  as  to  attract  the  notice  of  the  gossips.  North- 
ampton, by  the  way,  has  been  very  generous  to  minis- 
ters in  pursuit  of  helpmates.  A  local  annalist  has 
discovered  that  between  1673  and  1879,  eighty-four 
Northampton  ladies  married  clergymen. 

"During  Edwards's  pastorate  a  very  affecting  inci- 
dent occurred  in  the  death,  at  the  parsonage  on  King 
Street,  of  David  Brainerd,  the  devoted  young  mission- 
ary to  the  Indians.  The  young  man  was  the  friend 
and  protege  of  the  great  metaphysician,  as  well  as  the 
accepted  lover  of  his  daughter  Jerusha,  and  as  he  was 
friendless,  nothing  was  more  natural  than  that  he  should 
be  taken  in  his  last  illness  into  the  family  of  his  friend. 
In  the  breast  of  Jerusha  Edwards  he  had  inspired  a 
passionate  attachment.  From  the  25th  of  July,  1747, 
till  his  death,  on  the  9th  of  October,  she  watched  over 


192  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

him  with  the  most  tender  assiduity,  and  survived  him 
but  four  months,  hterally  dying,  the  gossips  aver,  of  a 
broken  heart." 

An  incident,  related  as  occurring  at  the  close  of  the 
Revolution,  sounds  like  a  travesty  on  some  modem 
events.  The  treaty  of  peace  with  Great  Britain  in 
1781  was  celebrated  in  Northampton  after  the  simple 
custom  of  the  day,  by  a  sermon  from  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Spring,  and  by  a  festive  gathering  in  the  evening,  at 
which,  we  are  told,  "much  decent  mirth  and  hilarity 
prevailed,  but  from  which  the  ladies  were  rigidly  ex- 
cluded." What  curtain  lectures  the  luckless  members 
of  the  party  were  treated  to  that  night  is  not  on  record, 
but  the  ladies  were  far  too  excited  and  indignant  to 
allow  the  matter  to  pass  over  with  only  private  repro- 
bation. They  held  a  tea-drinking  next  day,  and  after 
drinking  loyally  to  the  health  of  Madam  Washington 
and  to  Congress,  they  introduced  a  series  of  toasts  of 
which  these  are  examples:  "Reformation  to  our  Hus- 
bands," "May  Gentlemen  and  Ladies  ever  Unite  on 
Joyful  Occasions,"  "Happiness  and  Prosperity  to  our 
Families,"  "  May  Reformed  Husbands  ever  find  Obe- 
dient Wives."  In  fact,  the  aggrieved  ladies  carried 
things  with  such  high  hand  that  their  meeting  became 
the  talk  of  a  wide  circle  of  towns,  and  led  one  of  the 
poets  of  the  day  to  satirize  it  in  some  highly  impertinent 
verses. 

The  old  cemetery  at  Northampton  well  repays  a  visit. 


Northampton  193 

It  is  a  pretty  place  at  the  end  of  the  main  street,  near 
the  river,  shaded  by  a  few  native  pines,  most  of  its 
tombstones  bearing  the  quaint  form  and  pious  inscrip- 
tions of  a  long-buried  generation.  Two  of  the  most 
interesting  plots  are  on  the  west  side.  A  granite  monu- 
ment, in  one  recently  erected,  bears  this  inscription: 

"President  Jonathan  Edwards, 

Born  Oct.  5,  1703, 

Died  March  22,  1758. 

"Sarah  Pierrepont,  his  wife. 
Born  Jan.  9,  1709, 
Died  Oct.  2,  1758." 

A  similar  stone  stands  in  the  adjoining  lot,  and  bears 
this  inscription: 

"Timothy  Dwight, 
Born  May  27,  1726, 
Died  May  10,  1777. 

"Mary  Edwards,  wife  of 

Timothy  Dwight,  born 

April  4th,  1734,  died 

Feb.  28,  1807." 

Turning  to  the  more  modern  aspects  of  the  town, 
we  observe  in  the  public  libraries  and  in  Smith  College 
interesting  exponents  of  the  culture  of  which  we  have 


194  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

spoken.  The  hbrary,  comprising  some  18,000  well- 
chosen  volumes,  is  comfortably  housed  in  the  elegant 
Memorial  Hall,  erected  by  the  town  in  1869-70,  at  a 
cost  of  $25,000,  in  memory  of  its  soldiers  slain  in  the 
civil  war.  In  the  vestibule  of  this  Hall  are  marble 
tablets  bearing  the  names  of  those  who  fell  in  the  war, 
and  above  is  the  main  library-room,  with  a  capacity  of 
100,000  volumes,  with  reception  and  reference  rooms 
on  either  hand.  The  shelves  would  have  been  filled 
ere  this  but  for  the  fact  that  the  library  fund  of  $40,000 
was  stolen  in  the  famous  robbery  of  the  Northampton 
National  Bank  in  1876,  and  has  never  been  recovered. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

HISTORIC   DEERFIELD 

"r\EERFIELD  in  its  early  days  had  the  misfortune 
-*-^  of  being  sixteen  miles  nearer  Canada  than 
Northampton  and  the  other  border  settlements  along 
the  Connecticut;  it  was  also  situated  at  the  mouth  of  a 
deep  valley  which  was  the  great  liighway  of  the  French 
and  Indians  in  their  incursions  into  New  England; 
hence  nearly  all  the  watching  and  warding,  the  forays, 
massacres,  burnings,  and  taking  into  captivity  of  those 
bloody  colonial  days  occurred  here.  The  valley  to-day 
is  the  picture  of  peace  and  plenty.  The  Deerfield, 
after  brawling  for  its  entire  course  over  a  rocky  bed 
between  frowning  mountain  walls,  here  opens  into  a 
smiling  valley  at  least  three  miles  wide  and  six  or  eight 
in  length,  near  the  mouth  of  which  is  planted  a  village 
as  pretty  and  interesting  as  the  traveler  can  easily  find. 
It  contains  perhaps  fifty  dwellings  of  all  sorts,  ranged 
on  both  sides  of  a  wide  elm-shaded  street.  The  vil- 
lagers are  chiefly  descendants  of  the  early  settlers, 
become  well-to-do,  in  the  course  of  years,  from  the 
increase  of  their  fields. 

That  the  town  should  remain  so  pastoral  and  simple 


196  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

is  surprising,  for  the  valley  is  one  of  the  great  highways 
of  travel.  Yet  the  old  place  remains  as  the  fathers 
left  it,  a  repository  for  the  memories  of  the  past;  in- 
deed, retrospection  is  one  of  its  chief  features. 

This  spirit  led  the  people  of  the  valley  some  years 
ago  to  organize  a  Memorial  Association,  and  in  due 
time  to  procure  a  Memorial  Hall  and  store  it  with  an 
exceptionally  complete  and  valuable  collection  of  relics 
of  the  colonial  and  Revolutionary  era.  The  hall  is  a 
large  brick  structure,  standing  well  out  of  the  village, 
near  the  railway  station.  Originally  it  served  as  the 
Deerfield  Academy,  and  was  a  famous  school  in  its 
day.  But  in  1877-8  the  Academ.y  Corporation  secured 
a  new  and  more  elegant  building  in  the  village,  and  the 
old  academy  was  wisely  deeded  to  the  Memorial 
Association  for  museum  purposes.  The  work  of  re- 
moving the  relics  and  heirlooms  of  the  past  from  the 
valley  homes  where  they  had  been  carefully  treasured 
was  at  once  begun,  and  has  since  occupied  the  attention 
of  the  Association.  This  collection  is  certainly  the 
most  complete  and  interesting  that  has  come  under 
the  writer's  notice.  It  is  readily  resolved  into  three 
classes :  mementoes  of  the  Valley  Indians,  colonial  and 
Revolutionary  relics.  On  the  stout,  oaken  door  is  a 
placard  informing  the  visitor  that  on  Mondays  and 
alternate  days  through  the  week  an  admission  fee  of 
twenty-five  cents  is  charged,  other  days  being  free.  We 
mention  the  fact,  that  the  intending  visitor  may  choose 


Historic  Deerfield  197 

a  "  pay  day  "  for  his  visit,  for  the  Association  needs  the 
admission  fee  and  merits  it. 

We  register  in  the  visitors'  book  in  the  hall  and  step 
into  a  large  room  on  the  right,  devoted  chiefly  to  the 
Indian  remains.  In  the  center  of  the  room  a  huge 
oaken  door,  nail-studded,  with  sill  and  lintel,  and 
heavy  uprights  complete,  attracts  the  attention,  and 
inspecting  it  closely  one  perceives  that  it  is  the  outer 
door  of  an  old  colonial  house,  and  discovers  deep  cuts 
in  its  upper  surface,  and  in  one  place  a  large,  ragged 
hole,  evidently  made  by  axe  or  tomahawk.  This  door 
belonged  to  the  old  "  Indian  house  "  erected  by  Ensign 
(afterward  Captain)  John  Sheldon,  who  settled  in 
Deerfield  in  1684,  and  through  this  aperture  one  morn- 
ing the  Captain's  wife  was  shot  and  killed  as  she  was 
rising  from  bed.  On  the  other  side,  suspended  by  a 
small  wire,  we  may  find  the  round,  battered  ball  that 
killed  her.  This  door  rightly  viewed  is  rather  a  start- 
ling piece  of  furniture.  It  carries  us  back  nearly  two 
hundred  years  to  that  morning  of  February  29,  1704, 
when  a  band  of  French  and  Indians  sprang  out  of  the 
forest  upon  the  little  village.  That  was  in  the  time  of 
the  bloody  French  and  Indian  wars.  The  village  was 
surrounded  by  a  stockade,  with  block-houses  at  inter- 
vals in  which  sentinels  were  posted  on  the  lookout  for 
an  enemy.  On  the  evening  of  the  28th  that  enemy, 
340  strong,  after  a  march  of  over  two  hundred  miles  from 
Canada  through  deep  snows,  slipped  into  hiding  in  a  pine 


198  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

forest  about  two  miles  north  of  the  village.  Soon  after 
midnight,  finding  the  crust  hard  enough  to  bear  them, 
they  began  their  descent  on  the  village,  advancing  a 
few  yards,  then  stopping,  that  the  sentinels  might  mis- 
take the  noise  of  their  approach  for  a  wandering  wind 
or  the  sighing  of  trees.  On  the  southeast  comer  of 
the  stockade  the  snow  had  banked  as  high  as  the 
top  of  the  palisades,  and  over  this  the  enemy  rushed 
and  were  hurrying  through  the  village,  torch  in  hand, 
ere  the  sentinels  could  give  the  alarm.  In  most  cases 
those  who  surrendered  were  taken  captive,  those  who 
resisted  or  attempted  escape  were  killed.  Among  the 
first  houses  attacked  was  this  old  house  of  Ensign 
Sheldon,  the  strongest  in  the  village,  but  the  barred 
oaken  door  resisted  their  attempts  to  force  it.  The 
Rev.  John  Williams,  the  village  pastor,  was  awakened 
by  the  Indians  bursting  in  the  door  of  his  house.  He 
and  his  wife  were  seized;  two  of  his  children,  with  a 
negro  servant,  were  killed  before  their  eyes,  and  they, 
with  the  remaining  five  children,  were  added  to  the 
group  of  prisoners  —  one  hundred  and  twelve  in  all 
—  which  the  various  detachments  collected.  When 
all  were  gathered  the  whole  company  moved  off  over 
the  snowy  meadows,  leaving  the  village  in  flames,  and 
forty-seven  of  its  people  dead  in  the  streets.  On  the 
morning  of  the  second  day's  march,  the  band  being 
only  six  or  seven  miles  north  of  Deerfield,  Mrs. 
Williams,    weak    from    maternal    pains,    became    ex- 


Historic  Deerfield  199 

hausted,  and  was  slain  at  the  foot  of  a  little  hill  on 
Green  River. 

The  summer  the  Memorial  Association  held  its 
eighth  field  meeting  on  this  spot  it  erected  a  granite 
monument  to  mark  the  scene  of  the  tragedy.  You 
may  be  interested  by  the  inscription,  which  reads  as 
follows : 

"  The  cruel  and  Bloodthirsty  savage  who  took  her, 
slew  her  with  his  hatchet  at  one  stroke." 

"  The  Rev.  John  Williams,  '  the  Redeemed  Captive,' 
so  wrote  of  his  wife,  Mrs.  Eunice  Williams,  who  was 
killed  at  this  place  March  1,  1704. 

"  Erected  by  the  Pocomtuck  Valley  Memorial  Asso- 
ciation." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

PITTSFIELD,    A    HOME    OF    POETS,    1885 

T)ITTSFIELD,  in  the  valley  of  the  Housatonic, 
-*•  chiefly  interested  us  from  its  intimate  connection 
with  two  of  the  most  honored  names  in  American 
literature  —  the  poets  Longfellow  and  Holmes.  East 
Street,  a  fine  old  thoroughfare  leading  north  from  the 
public  square,  contains  the  old  Appleton  mansion, 
the  girlhood  home  of  Henry  W.  Longfellow's  wife,  the 
abode  of  the  poet  for  several  summers,  and  the  abiding 
place  of  the  famous  "old  clock  on  the  stairs,"  which 
suggested  one  of  his  best-known  poems. 

The  place  long  since  went  out  of  the  family,  but  has 
been  little  changed ;  the  "  antique  portico  "  of  the  poet's 
day  has  given  place  to  a  modest  little  porch,  and  the 
two  Balm  of  Gilead  trees  that  once  shaded  it  have  been 
cut  down,  but  the  poplars  and  elms  and  the  broad 
lawn  are  still  there.  Within,  a  monkish  old  clock 
still  stands  on  the  landing  "half-way  up  the  stairs," 
although  truth  compels  one  to  state  that  it  is  not 
the  poet's  monitor,  that  having  followed  the  family 
fortunes  to  Boston;  but  one  may  see  in  the  parlor 
the  figured  wall  paper  purchased  by  a  member  of  the 


Pittsfield,  a  Home  of  Poets  201 

family  in  Paris  during  the  war  of  1812,  and,  in  the 
absence  of  paper-hangers,  put  on  by  the  ladies  of 
the  household.  One  does  not  realize  until  he  learns  the 
traditions  of  the  old  house  how  literal  is  the  poem  with 
which  it  is  identified.  The  house  is  said  to  have  been 
built  by  Thomas  Gold,  an  ancestor  of  the  poet's  wife 
and  a  descendant  of  the  Golds  of  Fairfield  —  a  famous 
family  in  Connecticut  annals.  He  came  to  Pittsfield 
while  a  young  man  to  engage  in  the  practice  of  the 
law.  Of  great  natural  ability  and  pleasing  address, 
he  soon  became  the  leading  man  of  the  village,  in  church 
and  state  as  well  as  in  his  profession.  While  his  for- 
tunes were  at  the  flood  he  built  this  mansion,  and  soon 
after  brought  from  a  neighboring  town  a  beautiful  and 
accomplished  woman  to  be  its  mistress.  In  that  time 
the  house  was  noted  for  its  "  free-hearted  hospitality  "  — 

"  Its  great  fires  up  the  chimney  roared, 
The  stranger  feasted  at  its  board." 

It  became  a  rallying  point  for  the  worth  and  wit 
and  beauty  of  western  Massachusetts.  When  he  was 
in  middle  life  trouble  came  to  the  master  of  the  man- 
sion: it  was  whispered  in  the  village  that  too  profuse 
hospitality  had  impaired  his  fortune.  The  world 
looked  coldly  on  its  former  favorite,  bandied  reflections 
on  his  good  name,  and  one  morning  was  startled  to 
hear  that  he  had  been  found  dead  in  his  bed.  A 
daughter  had  married  a  wealthy  Boston  merchant,  and 


202  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

when  her  daughter  grew  to  beautiful  womanhood  she 
became  the  wife  of  Longfellow  while  yet  his  laurels 
were  all  unwon.  This  is  the  village  story  of  the  old 
mansion.  The  house  was  a  favorite  haunt  of  both 
the  poet  and  his  wife,  and  while  it  remained  in  the 
family  most  of  their  summers  were  spent  here.  One 
sees  how  naturally  the  poem  connected  with  it  assumed 
form  in  the  poet's  summer-day  musings.  The  village 
street,  the  ancient  country  seat,  the  tall  and  ghostly 
poplars,  the  wizard  old  clock,  its  recording  hands,  the 
feasts,  the  births,  the  dreaming  youths  and  maids,  the 
bridals,  the  funerals  —  every  picture  conjured  up  by 
the  poet's  rhymes  once  existed  here.  It  is  not  always 
one  can  trace  so  minutely  the  growth  of  a  fine  poem  in 
the  master's  mind. 

Doctor  Holmes  became  identified  with  Pittsfield 
through  his  mother's  family,  the  Wendells.  Quite 
early,  it  is  said,  Jacob  Wendell,  of  Boston,  purchased 
of  the  Indians  nearly  the  entire  tract  on  which  Pitts- 
field  now  stands,  and  built  a  dwelling  on  the  purchase, 
which  remained  in  the  family  name  until  within  a  few 
years  past.  The  Autocrat,  thus  introduced  to  Pitts- 
field  through  his  family  connections  at  an  early  age, 
some  time  after  his  marriage  built  a  pleasant  country 
house  on  a  little  elevation  some  two  miles  east  of  the 
town  that  had  once  formed  a  part  of  his  ancestor's 
estate.  Here  he  spent  the  summers  of  seven  years, 
writing,  it  is  said,  a  large  part  of  the  'Autocrat  of  the 


Pittsfield,  a  Home  of  Poets  203 

Breakfast  Table '  and  several  of  his  best-known  poems, 
and  leaving  it  at  last  of  necessity  and  with  regret.  In 
proof  of  Doctor  Holmes's  regard  for  Pittsfield,  we  were 
shown  the  following  characteristic  passage  from  a 
letter  written  to  a  friend  in  this  city:  "I  can  never 
pay  my  debt  to  Pittsfield  for  giving  my  children  their 
mother,  and  myself  seven  blessed  seasons,  and  seventy 
times  seven  granaries  full  of  hoarded  reminiscences." 

From  the  old  Appleton  place,  in  town,  we  walked 
out  one  morning  to  the  poet's  former  home.  Down 
East  Street,  and  then  a  sudden  turn  to  the  right,  and  we 
came  soon  to  the  outskirts  of  the  city  and  to  the  Housa- 
tonic,  or  rather  one  of  its  branches,  brimful,  and  here 
degraded  to  the  duty  of  turning  the  mill-wheel  of  a 
tannery.  Pushing  on  through  green  fields,  at  a  black- 
smith shop  we  made  another  sharp  turn  to  the  right, 
and  a  mile  further  on  crossed  the  main  body  of  the 
Housatonic.  From  tliis  point  a  five  minutes'  walk 
brings  one  to  the  gate  giving  access  to  the  grounds, 
which  are  quite  extensive.  The  house  has  little  to 
distinguish  it,  but  is  beautifully  situated  on  a  little 
eminence  commanding  a  view  of  the  meadows  and  river 
to  the  city,  and  of  the  all-encircling  mountains. 

The  property  is  now  owned  by  a  gentleman  of  New 
York,  who  has  slightly  remodeled  the  interior.  We 
were  kindly  shown  the  library  in  which  the  poet  wrote, 
but  nothing  further  remains  to  remind  one  of  his 
occupancy. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

WILLIAMSTOWN    THE    BEAUTIFUL,    1885 

UNDER  the  maples  that  shade  WilHamstown 
Street,  one  looks  out  on  wide,  green  meadows 
hemmed  in  by  a  circle  of  frowning  mountains  save 
where  the  Hoosac  has  broken  through  the  barrier  to 
continue  its  course  to  the  Hudson.  The  little  valley  is 
hopelessly  entangled  in  these  bold  peaks,  broken  spurs 
of  the  Green  Mountains,  rising  abruptly  without  order 
or  system.  Notliing  is  plainer  to  the  loiterer  under 
the  maples  than  that  nature  meant  an  eternal  seclusion 
here;  but  man's  great  end  is  to  circumvent  nature,  and 
up  the  valley,  five  miles  away,  he  has  cut  a  tunnel 
through  the  most  formidable  hill  and  made  the  valley 
one  of  the  nation's  highways. 

Yet,  spite  of  the  innovation,  we  fail  to  see  that  the 
old  town  has  lost  any  of  its  rural  beauty  or  tranquillity. 
West  College  and  East  College,  though  surrounded  by 
smarter  and  more  esthetic  structures,  are  as  firmly 
seated,  as  piquant  and  interesting  as  ever.  There  is  a 
novelty  and  beauty  in  this  park-like  main  street  of 
Williamstown  which  you  will  find  nowhere  else.  And 
there  is  that  in  the  origin  and  history  of  Williams  Col- 


Williamstown  the  Beautiful  205 

lege  which  is  not  embodied  in  the  history  of  any  of  our 
institutions  of  learning.  Musing  under  the  shades 
and  wandering  through  the  old  halls  instinct  with 
young  life  and  high  hopes  and  endeavors,  Ephraim 
Williams's  foresight  and  self-sacrifice  appear  in  their 
fullest  scope  and  significance.  Too  many  men  devote 
themselves  to  the  fighting  of  battles  and  the  material 
development  of  the  country;  too  few  found  univer- 
sities and  endow  scholarships.  This  man,  in  a  rude 
age,  suggesting  and  founding  an  institution  so  bene- 
ficent and  so  successful,  seems  the  ideal  hero  of  his 
time. 

The  annalists  have  preserved  the  history  of  the  Col- 
lege so  perfectly  that  one  may  pass  leisurely  down  the 
years,  and  without  effort  observe  the  salient  features 
and  more  striking  incidents. 

It  is  not  until  the  French  and  Indian  war  of  1744 
that  Captain  Ephraim  Williams,  one  of  the  leading 
citizens  of  the  Province,  coming  into  the  valley  to  build 
Fort  Massachusetts,  the  westernmost  of  a  chain  of  forts 
which  Massachusetts  has  ordered  for  the  defense  of 
her  frontiers,  discovers  the  valley.  Charmed  with  its 
beauty  and  fertility,  at  the  close  of  the  war  he  succeeded 
in  inducing  the  Legislature  to  organize  in  the  valley 
two  townships  of  six  miles  square,  to  be  called  the  east 
and  west  townships  of  Hoosac.  There  was  a  hamlet 
of  eleven  souls  in  the  valley  when,  in  the  spring  of  1755, 
war  with  the  French  and  Indians  again  broke  out,  and 


206  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Captain,  now  Colonel,  Williams  marched  away  at  the 
head  of  the  Hampsliire  Regiment  to  join  in  Johnson's 
expedition  against  Crown  Point.  On  the  8th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1755,  Williams  fell  in  battle  with  Dieskau's 
forces,  near  the  head  of  Lake  George,  and  on  the 
administering  of  his  estate  a  will  was  found,  which, 
after  a  few  minor  bequests,  gave  the  bulk  of  his  property 
"for  the  support  and  maintenance  of  a  free  school  in 
the  townsliip  west  of  Fort  Massachusetts,"  provided 
that  township  remained  a  part  of  the  Massachusetts 
Colony,  and  was  erected  at  a  proper  time  into  a  town 
to  be  called  Williamstown.  Such  was  the  modest 
origin  of  the  College  and  the  village. 

It  was  fortunate  that  the  bequest  came  into  the  hands 
of  wise  and  judicious  trustees,  for  it  had  to  be  nursed 
carefully  for  a  generation  before  it  became  at  all  ade- 
quate to  the  purpose  designed.  At  length,  in  the  year 
1785,  the  colonies  which  Colonel  Williams  died  for 
having  become  free  and  independent  States,  the  trus- 
tees, reinforced  by  a  public  subscription  of  $2,000,  and 
further  buttressed  by  a  lottery  wliich  yielded  £1,037, 
began  the  erection  of  West  College,  which  still  remains 
strong  and  serviceable,  to  show  how  well  men  builded 
in  those  days.  In  this  building  the  school  opened 
October  20,  1791,  with  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Fitch,  who 
had  been  a  tutor  at  Yale,  as  principal,  and  Mr.  John 
Lester  as  assistant.  The  school  was  really  a  college 
from  the  beginning.     In   its  academical  department, 


Williamstown  the  Beautiful  207 

the  studies  usually  taught  in  the  colleges  of  the  day 
were  pursued,  and  in  its  free  school,  graduates  of  the 
common  school  were  instructed  in  the  higher  branches 
of  English.  There  was  no  lack  of  students  from  the 
beginning,  and  in  1793  the  trustees  were  emboldened 
to  procure  an  act  of  Legislature  incorporating  the  free 
school  as  a  college,  by  the  name  of  Williams  College. 
The  same  act  bestowed  $4,000  for  the  purchase  of  a 
library  and  other  necessary  apparatus.  Thus  gradually 
and  with  some  effort  the  College  was  established  on  a 
firm  basis,  and  began  its  work  of  beneficence.  Some 
incidents  of  its  early  history  give  us  pleasant  glimpses 
of  the  social  customs  of  the  day.  There  was  the  Com- 
mencement dinner,  provided  for  by  one  of  the  earliest 
acts  of  the  trustees,  at  which  the  President,  Trustees, 
and  officers  of  the  College,  with  such  other  gentlemen 
as  the  President  might  invite,  were  appointed  guests. 
For  many  years  the  annual  Commencements  con- 
tinued to  be  the  great  days  not  only  of  the  village,  but 
of  the  region  roundabout. 

Almost  any  sunny  day  one  may  see  under  these  shades 
a  venerable  form  who  is  recognized  as  the  central  figure 
in  the  annals  of  Williams  —  ex-President  Mark  Hop- 
kins. It  will  be  fifty  years  in  1886  since  he  became 
President  of  the  College,  and  although  the  burden  of 
years  caused  him  in  1872  to  resign  the  Presidency,  he 
still  fills  the  chairs  of  Christian  Theology  and  of  Moral 
and    Intellectual   Philosophy,    and    is    a   counselor    of 


208  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

weight  in  all  the  affairs  of  the  College.  Much  of  what 
is  distinctive  and  beneficent  —  and  there  is  much  of  it  — 
in  the  atmosphere  of  Williams  to-day  is  admittedly  due 
to  this  long  administration  of  President  Hopkins. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

MONUMENT   MOUNTAIN 

nr^HE  glory  of  the  Stockbridge  landscape  is  Monu- 
-*•  merit  Mountain,  a  mountain  so  famed  in  poetry, 
and  so  enwreathed  in  dim  tradition  and  antiquarian 
lore,  that  no  visitor  to  the  town  feels  at  liberty  to  depart 
without  making  its  acquaintance.  The  best  point  in  the 
village  from  which  to  view  it  is  the  level  plateau  in  the 
rear  of  the  Congregational  Church.  It  is  there  seen 
rising  above  the  level  meadows  of  the  Housatonic,  a 
bold,  defiant,  rugged  mass  of  quartz  rock,  thrown  up 
by  some  giant  upheaval  of  nature,  and  left  to  charm  the 
lovers  of  the  picturesque  and  excite  the  speculation  of 
the  curious. 

The  mountain  is  peculiar  in  its  conformation;  nearly 
all  its  brothers,  and  there  are  many  of  them  in  this 
region  of  hills  and  mountains,  are  round  topped,  and 
covered  quite  to  their  summits  with  a  large  growth  of 
forest  trees;  but  the  summit  of  Monument  Mountain 
is  bold  and  barren  of  verdure,  broken  and  fissured,  and 
furnished  with  "  incredible  pinnacles "  that  prick  into 
the  blue  heavens.  It  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  climb 
these  jagged  masses,  but  when  the  feat  is  accomplished 


210  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

one  of  the  most  charming  views  imaginable  rewards  the 
efifort.     All  about  us  are 

"  The  bare  old  cliffs, 
Huge  pillars  that  in  middle  heaven  upbear 
Their  weather-beaten  capitals;   here  dark 
With  moss,  the  growth  of  centuries,  and  there 
Of  chalky  whiteness  where  the  thmiderbolt 
Has  splintered  them." 

Below  is  the  valley  of  the  Housatonic  with  the  beau- 
tiful river  itself  winding  through  its  emerald  fields,  in 
appearance  like  a  ribbon  of  silver  unrolled,  and  which 
may  be  traced  almost  to  its  source  thirty  miles  away 
beyond  the  Lenox  hills.  Westward  is  the  beautiful 
Stockbridge  plain,  nestled  at  the  feet  of  its  guardian 
mountains  and  bearing  on  its  bosom  the  pretty  village 
with  its  white  cottages  peeping  shyly  out  from  amid  its 
green  foliage,  and  its  beautful  villas  that  occupy  com- 
manding positions  on  its  dominating  hills.  In  any  direc- 
tion one  may  look  are  farms  and  farmhouses,  and  herds 
of  sleek  cattle  grazing  up  to  their  eyes  in  the  lush  grass  for 
which  these  mountain  slopes  are  famous.  In  view  are  a 
score  of  heavily  wooded  mountains  and  as  many  coun- 
try villages,  their  white  steeples  peering  out  over  the 
tree  tops  in  places  where  no  one  would  suspect  a  village 
to  exist. 

The  mountain  derives  its  name  from  a  curious  pillar 
on  its  southern  slope,  raised  by  the  Indians  for  some 
unknown  purpose,  which  was  still  standing  when  the 


The   Stone  Face  on   Monument    Mountain,   Stockbhioge 


Monument  Mountain  211 

white  men  first  came  to  this  region.  There  are  many 
traditions  extant  as  to  the  origin  of  this  pillar. 
Bryant,  who  was  familiar  with  the  mountain,  has  voiced 
the  popular  tradition  in  his  beautiful  poem  called 
"Monument  Mountain,"  a  poem  so  familiar  to  all 
that  I  need  give  but  the  briefest  possible  paraphrase: 
In  early  days  a  beautiful  Indian  maiden  was  so  unfortu- 
nate as  to  fall  in  love  with  her  cousin  —  a  love  deemed 
illegal  by  these  stem  tribes.  She  struggled  long  with 
her  unfortunate  passion,  but  in  vain;  at  length  over- 
come with  despair  and  shame  she  climbed  one  day  the 
dizzy  height  of  this  mountain  precipice  accompanied 
only  by  a  friend,  "  a  playmate  of  her  young  and  innocent 
years."  On  the  verge  of  the  precipice  the  friends  sat 
down  and 

"  Sang  all  day  old  songs  of  love  and  death. 
And  decked  the  poor  wan  victim's  hair  with  flowers. 
And  prayed  that  safe  and  swift  might  be  her  way 
To  the  calm  world  of  sunshine  where  no  grief 
Makes  the  heart  heavy  and  the  eyelids  red." 

And  then  — 

"  When  the  sun  grew  low. 
And  the  hill  shadows  long,  she  threw  herself 
From  the  steep  rock  and  perished.      There  was  scooped 
Upon  the  mountain's  southern  slope  a  grave. 
And  there  they  laid  her  in  the  very  garb 
With  which  the  maiden  decked  herself  for  death. 
And  o'er  the  mould  that  covered  her  the  tribe 
Built  up  a  simple  monument  —  a  cone 
Of  small  loose  stones.      *      *      *      " 


212  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

But  since  Bryant  wrote  the  antiquaries  have  been 
busy,  and  they  say  that  the  legend  is  only  a  beautiful 
myth  after  all  —  a  simple  impossibility,  in  fact,  since  it 
was  not  the  custom  of  the  River  Indians  to  commemo- 
rate either  men  or  events  by  the  erection  of  memorial 
piles.  As  to  the  real  origin  or  use  of  the  pillar  much 
legendary  lore  has  been  gathered,  which  would  be  found 
vastly  interesting  no  doubt,  but  of  which  I  can  only 
give  an  epitome. 

As  early  as  1735  one  of  the  early  explorers,  writing 
from  Indiantown,  thus  refers  to  the  monument: 

"  Some  say  it  is  raised  over  the  first  sachem  who  died 
after  the  Indians  came  into  this  region.  Each  Indian, 
as  he  goes  by,  adds  a  stone  to  the  pile;  but  Captain 
Konkapot  (chief  of  the  Housatonicks)  tells  me  it  marks 
the  boundary  of  land  agreed  on  in  a  treaty  with  the 
Mohawks,  the  Mohawks  being  entitled  to  all  land  within 
a  day's  journey  of  the  pile." 

The  Rev.  John  Sergeant,  on  the  occasion  of  his  first 
visit  to  the  Stockbridge  Indians,  in  1734,  passed  by  the 
monument,  and  thus  refers  to  it : 

"  There  is  a  large  heap  of  stones  —  I  suppose  ten 
cartloads  —  in  the  way  to  Waahtukook,  which  the 
Indians  have  thrown  together  as  they  passed  by  the 
place,  for  it  used  to  be  their  custom  every  time  any  one 
passed  by  to  throw  a  stone  at  it.  But  what  was  the 
end  of  it  they  cannot  tell ;  only  they  say  their  fathers  used 
to  do  so,  and  they  do  it  because  it  was  the  custom  of 


Monument  Mountain  213 

their  fathers.  But  Ebenezer  (the  Indian  interpreter) 
says  he  supposes  it  is  designed  to  be  an  expression  of 
their  gratitude  to  the  Supreme  Being  that  He  had  pre- 
served them  to  see  the  place  again." 

Another  tradition  is  to  the  effect  that  on  one  occasion 
the  territory  of  the  Muhhekunnucks  was  invaded  by  a 
powerful  enemy  from  the  West;  that  the  Muhhekun- 
nucks laid  an  ambush  for  their  enemies  in  this  moun- 
tain and  defeated  them  there  with  great  slaughter,  and 
that  this  pile  was  raised  to  commemorate  the  event. 
But  the  writer  who  has  treated  of  the  subject  most  at 
length  was  the  Rev.  Gideon  Hawley  of  Mashpee,  Mass., 
for  some  time  a  missionary  to  the  Stockbridge  Indians, 
whose  knowledge  of  Indian  rites  and  customs  was  not 
inconsiderable. 

In  his  missionary  tours  he  discovered  several  of  these 
monuments  and  thus  describes  them: 

"We  came  to  a  resting-place,  breathed  our  horses, 
and  slaked  our  thirst  at  a  stream,  when  we  perceived 
our  Indian  looking  for  a  stone  which  he  cast  to  a  heap 
that  had  for  ages  been  accumulated  by  passengers  like 
him  who  was  our  guide.  We  inquired  why  he  observed 
this  rite.  His  answer  was  that  his  fathers  had  prac- 
tised it  and  enjoined  it  on  him ;  but  he  did  not  like  to 
talk  on  the  subject.  I  have  observed  in  every  part  of 
the  country,  among  every  tribe  of  Indians,  and  among 
those  where  I  now  am  (Mashpee)  such  heaps  of  stones 
or  sticks  collected  on  like  occasions  as  above.     The 


214  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

largest  heap  I  ever  observed  is  that  large  collection  of 
small  stones  on  Monument  Mountain,  between  Stock- 
bridge  and  Barrington.  We  have  a  sacrifice  rock,  as 
it  is  termed,  between  Sandwich  and  Plymouth,  to  which 
stones  and  sticks  are  always  cast  by  Indians  who  pass 
it.  This  custom  or  rite  seems  to  be  an  acknowledgment 
of  an  invisible  being,  we  may  style  him  the  unknown 
God,  whom  the  people  worship.  Tliis  heap  is  his  altar. 
The  stone  that  is  collected  is  the  oblation  of  the  traveler, 
which,  if  offered  with  a  good  mind,  may  be  as  acceptable 
as  a  consecrated  animal." 

The  monument  stood  on  the  southern  slope  of  the 
mountain.  It  was  circular  at  the  base,  with  a  diameter 
of  from  eight  to  ten  feet,  and  as  it  approached  the  apex 
it  assumed  a  conical  form.  It  was  thrown  down  about 
forty  years  ago  by  a  band  of  covetous  marauders  in  the 
hope  of  finding  a  treasure  trove  secreted  beneath  it, 
and  now  lies  a  shapeless  mass  of  stone.  It  is  a  com- 
fort to  know,  however,  that  the  freebooters  gained 
nothing  by  their  vandalism.  But,  although  the  pile 
is  overthrown,  the  poetic  and  legendary  associations 
that  cluster  about  it  will  always  render  it  an  object  of 
interest  to  intelligent  tourists. 


The   Indian   Burial  Place,  Stockbridge 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LENOX   IN    1883 

T  ENOX  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  Berksliire  Hills,  two 
"*— ^  miles  and  a  half  from  railroad  and  river,  and  very 
far  away  from  any  literary  or  commercial  center;  yet 
within  a  radius  of  two  miles  of  the  village  green  are 
between  fifty  and  sixty  elegant  country  seats,  each  sur- 
rounded by  a  large,  well-kept  estate.  Fair  equestrians 
and  glittering  equipages  are  familiar  objects  on  the 
mountain  roads.  At  the  intersection  of  the  two 
principal  streets  stands  the  hostelry  of  my  friend 
Curtis,  substantially  built  years  ago  of  brick,  whose 
great  fires  roar  up  its  chimneys  through  autumn  days 
with  hospitable  sound.  It  has  entertained  in  its  day 
Kossuth,  Sumner,  Channing,  McClellan,  Fanny  Kemble, 
Charlotte  Cushman,  Hawthorne,  Thoreau,  Bret  Harte, 
and,  indeed,  nearly  all  the  notables  of  two  generations. 
The  town  has  been  called  a  second  Saratoga,  the  springs 
and  the  great  hotels  excepted  —  a  most  inapt  compari- 
son, since  Lenox  is  almost  wholly  devoted  to  the  cot- 
tager, and  its  society  is  exclusive  to  a  degree.  It  is 
rather  a  continuation  of  Newport.  The  season  usually 
opens  about  the  15th  of  August,  and  closes  by  the  middle 


216  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

of  October,  it  being  the  fashion  to  flit  with  the  leaves. 
Many  of  the  visitors  own  cottages  at  Newport,  which, 
as  summer  wanes,  they  close  to  finish  the  season  at 
Lenox. 

We  one  day  inquired  of  Mr.  Curtis,  an  unquestioned 
authority  on  all  matters  pertaining  to  Lenox,  as  to  the 
special  attractions  which  have  drawn  the  wealthy  and 
distinguished  in  such  numbers  to  the  village,  but  he 
evaded  a  reply  by  inviting  us  out  to  drive,  wisely  assum- 
ing that  that  would  be  the  only  method  of  imparting 
to  a  visitor  the  charm  of  natural  beauty  and  literary 
association  which  has  made  Lenox  the  fascinating 
spot  it  is.  We  drove  southeast  along  the  crest  of  the 
long  undulation  dominated  by  encircling  ranges  on 
which  the  town  is  built.  On  a  side  street,  almost  hid- 
den by  a  copse  of  pines,  he  pointed  out  a  pretty  cottage. 
"In  the  'L'  of  that  cottage,  built  especially  for  her," 
he  remarked,  "behind  that  green  blind,  Catherine 
Sedgwick  wrote  most  of  her  later  tales."  Then,  in  the 
hollow  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  pointed  out  the  localities 
of  the  former  homes  of  two  other  famous  women,  Fanny 
Kemble  and  Charlotte  Cushman.  "  These  three  ladies 
spent  many  years  in  Lenox  when  it  was  entirely  un- 
known to  fame,"  he  continued;  "and  their  enthusiastic 
descriptions  of  it,  with  both  tongue  and  pen,  first  made 
its  beauties  known.  Miss  Kemble,  in  particular,  was 
fascinated  by  it.  I  was  a  lad  of  twenty  when  she  first 
began  spending  her  summers  here,  and  was  often  em- 


Lenox  in  1883  217 

ployed  to  drive  her  in  her  excursions  about  the  country. 
What  beauty,  what  genius,  what  a  presence  she  had. 
I  don't  suppose  there's  a  mountain  peak  or  a  lake  in 
this  region  that  I  haven't  piloted  her  to.  Sometimes 
she  went  alone,  but  oftener  Miss  Sedgwick  or  Miss 
Cushman  or  the  young  ladies  of  Mrs.  Sedgwick's  school 
made  up  the  party.  She  then  appeared  at  her  best. 
To  hear  her  recite  Shakespeare  on  Greylock,  or  Bryant 
on  Monument  Mountain,  in  the  midst  of  her  friends, 
was  to  gain  a  new  idea  of  her  powers." 

At  this  moment  we  turned  into  a  drive  that  led 
through  spacious  grounds  to  the  front  of  a  well-kept 
country  seat.  "This,"  said  Mr.  Curtis,  "is  the  Hag- 
gerty  place,  leased  the  past  summer  by  Robert  C.  Win- 
throp,  Jr.  Col.  Robert  G.  Shaw,  of  the  Fifty-fourth 
Massachusetts  Colored  Volunteers,  married  a  daughter 
of  the  owner  and  brought  his  bride  here  for  the  honey- 
moon, leaving  her  here  after  a  few  weeks,  to  march  to 
his  death  in  the  assault  on  Fort  Wagner,  where,  as  you 
will  remember,  he  was  buried  by  the  enemy  under  the 
bodies  of  his  men.  Mrs.  Shaw,  after  her  husband's 
death,  resided  here  many  years,  and  here  entertained 
one  summer  Christine  Nilsson,  of  whom  I  shall  have 
something  to  say  when  we  reach  Echo  Lake.  Perhaps 
you  would  like  to  see  the  house  where  most  of  the  '  Star 
Papers'  were  written.  Here  it  is,  this  plain  little  cot- 
tage under  the  hill.  When  Mr.  Beecher  owned  it, 
however,  it  stood  o?i  the  hill  instead  of  under  it,  on  the 


218  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

site  occupied  by  the  fine  villa  yonder.  Mr,  Beecher 
spent  several  summers  in  Lenox,  and,  like  Miss  Kemble, 
was  fairly  fascinated  by  it;  so  much  so  that  his  congre- 
gation began  to  fear  they  would  lose  him  entirely,  and 
finally  prevailed  on  him  to  allow  his  place  here  to  be 
sold,  purchasing  for  him  instead  his  present  farm  at 
Peekskill.  The  farm  is  now  owned  by  General  Rath- 
bone,  of  Albany." 

From  this  point  we  drove  down  to  and  partly  around 
Laurel  Lake,  a  lovely  sheet  of  water,  a  favorite  haunt 
of  Miss  Kemble,  which  called  out  many  interesting 
reminiscences  of  her  from  my  companion.  Returning 
village  ward  by  another  road,  we  passed  the  cottages  of 
Dr.  WilHam  H.  Draper,  of  New  York,  and  of  Professor 
Rachemann,  who  married  a  niece  of  Miss  Sedgwick, 
and  drove  by  a  private  road  through  spacious  grounds 
to  one  of  the  old-time  mansions  of  Lenox,  formerly 
owned  by  Judge  Walker,  a  gentleman  as  much  honored 
in  Lenox  as  the  Sedgwicks  were  in  Stockbridge.  "  His 
son,  Judge  William,  had  a  beautiful  daughter,  Sarah, 
who  became  the  first  wife  of  Senator  David  Davis.  It 
came  about  in  this  way:  at  the  time  Senator  Yancey  and 
Josh  Billings  were  wild  boys  at  Lenox  Academy,  Mr. 
Davis  was  studying  law  in  the  village  with  old  Judge 
Bishop,  and  being  captivated  by  the  lady,  wooed  and 
won  her  before  his  studies  M^ere  completed."  A  short 
distance  above  the  Walker  place,  Mr.  Lanier,  of  New 
York,  has  chosen  the  site  of  a  pretty  modern  villa,  one 


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Lenox  in  1883  219 

of  the  most  commanding  and  beautiful  spots  in  all 
Berkshire.  The  hill  slopes  down  to  the  shores  of  the 
famous  Stockbridge  Bowl.  Southward  the  view  is 
partly  closed  by  the  jagged  pinnacles  of  Monument 
Mountain,  and  far  below  that  by  the  blue  dome  of 
Mount  Everett,  the  loftiest  peak  of  the  Taghanics, 
wliile  on  the  north  the  view  ends  with  the  double  peaks 
of  Greylock.  Near  by,  on  the  bluff-like  north  bank  of 
the  Bowl,  stands  the  little  red  cottage  where  Haw- 
thorne wrote  his  "Tanglewood  Tales"  and  "House  of 
Seven  Gables."  We  drove  down,  making  quite  a  de- 
tour to  reach  it,  and  saw  on  a  closer  inspection  a  small, 
one-story  cottage,  half  farmhouse,  with  green  bhnds, 
and  a  long  "L"  on  the  west,  adjoining  a  barn.  The 
author's  study  was  in  the  southeast  room,  and  com- 
manded a  beautiful  view  of  the  lake  and  the  mountain 
vista  described  on  the  south.  "Many  a  time,"  said 
Mr.  Curtis,  "I  have  come  down  the  road  yonder  and 
stopped  for  a  chat  with  Hawthorne.  With  me  he  was 
always  cheerful  and  sociable,  though  some  have  called 
him  misanthropic.  He  always  had  a  sad  look  in  his 
eyes,  and  often  in  conversation  would  fall  into  a  reverie 
from  which  he  would  rouse  himself  with  an  effort.  His 
life  here  was  a  very  lonely  one;  he  rarely  called  on  any 
of  the  neighbors  and  had  few  visitors  excepting  chil- 
dren, of  whom  he  was  very  fond,  and  who  were  drawn 
to  liim  instinctively.  The  financial  difficulties  which 
clouded  so  much  of  liis  life  had  not  then  been  removed. 


220  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

I  think  he  had,  too,  a  feeling  that  his  talents  were  not 
fully  appreciated." 

Echo  Lake  was  the  next  point  of  interest  included  in 
our  drive.  The  roads  of  this  region  are  excellent,  and 
the  black  and  bay  bore  us  around  the  west  shores  of 
Stockbridge  Bowl  with  a  rush.  From  the  south  shore 
we  had  our  best  general  view  of  this  justly  famed  sheet 
of  water.  The  reader  may  imagine  it  as  the  pit  of  a 
great  amphitheater  whose  outer  rim  is  eight  or  nine 
miles  in  diameter,  and  its  walls  at  first  the  green  foot- 
hills, covered  with  country  seats,  which  constitute 
Lenox,  above  them  rising  the  craggy  and  wooded  spurs 
of  the  Taghanics,  the  whole  forming  a  landscape  that 
for  striking  contrasts  and  concentration  of  detail  has 
few  equals.  A  mile  south  of  the  Bowl  we  came  to  a 
new  road  opened  only  last  June  for  the  sole  use  of 
pleasure  parties,  which  led  us  west  for  nearly  half  a 
mile,  until  at  the  base  of  West  Stockbridge  Mountain 
we  came  upon  Echo  Lake.  To  my  mind  it  is  the  pretti- 
est of  the  twelve  or  fifteen  lakes  that  lie  within  easy  dis- 
tance of  Lenox.  Its  shores  are  delightfully  irregular, 
abounding  in  sheltered  nooks  and  coves,  and  are  shaded 
in  places  by  open  groves  of  pine  much  sought  by  picnic 
parties.  On  the  west  it  is  overhung  by  the  black,  grim 
mass  of  the  mountain ;  its  chief  feature  is  a  double  echo 
which  repeats  and  repeats  all  sounds  given  it  with 
astonishing  accuracy  and  volume.  Midway  of  the  east 
shore  is  an  overhanging  boulder  canopied  by  a  young 


Lenox  in  1883  221 

oak,  which  at  the  time  of  our  visit  hung  an  oriflamme 
of  color  over  the  lake.  It  was  on  this  rock  that  Chris- 
tine Nilsson  sang,  while  visiting  in  Lenox,  to  a  select 
company  of  friends  who  had  accompanied  her  to  the 
lake.  As  described  to  me  the  scene  must  have  been 
one  of  the  most  dramatic  ever  witnessed.  Standing  on 
the  rock,  the  great  singer  threw  across  the  water  to  the 
mountain  the  choicest  notes  in  her  repertoire,  and  these 
were  caught  by  its  subtle  spirits  and  thrown  back  in 
double  measure  and  with  perfect  accuracy.  By  and 
by,  as  the  singer's  ardor  grew,  the  notes  were  echoed 
and  reechoed  with  equal  spirit,  until  it  seemed  that 
scores  of  celestial  choirs  must  be  hidden  somewhere 
among  the  recesses  of  the  crags. 

Echo  Lake  was  the  limit  of  our  drive.  As  we  drove 
back  into  the  village  street,  Mr.  Curtis  inquired  if  my 
question  had  been  satisfactorily  answered,  and  I  ad- 
mitted that  the  answer  was  all-suflScient. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


THE   HOOSAC    TUNNEL 


NORTH  ADAMS  is  so  hidden  among  hills,  that 
coming  down  the  Hoosac  Valley  from  Pittsfield 
or  up  from  Albany  one  glides  into  the  city  almost  with- 
out premonition.  At  its  doors  the  north  and  east 
branches  of  the  Hoosac  River  unite  to  form  the  main 
stream.  The  east  branch  has  a  green,  open,  fairly 
wide  valley,  with  the  towering  mass  of  Greylock  on  the 
west,  and  is  followed  by  the  North  Adams  branch  of 
the  Boston  and  Albany  Railroad  in  approaching  from 
Pittsfield.  The  north  branch,  however,  has  no  valley, 
only  a  gorge,  and  breaks  through  the  rugged  mountain 
barrier,  just  by  the  town,  in  a  series  of  pretty  cascades. 
A  few  yards  below,  it  forms  a  pocket  in  the  hills  in 
which,  and  up  the  valley,  and  on  the  sides  of  the 
hills,  the  town  is  picturesquely  built.  Wherever  there 
are  cascades  there  is  water-power,  and  wherever  the 
Yankee  and  falling  water  meet,  there  in  due  course  rise 
the  mill,  and  workshop,  and  thriving  community. 
This  fact  explains  why  North  Adams  is,  with  her  great 
factories  of  boots  and  shoes,  cotton  and  woollen  fabrics, 
and  minor  industries. 


The  Hoosac  Tunnel  223 

The  city  is  of  more  interest,  however,  to  the  tourist 
as  being  the  point  where  the  great  tunnel  can  be  most 
advantageously  viewed.  Directly  above  the  town,  on 
the  east,  rises  the  main  spur  of  the  Hoosac  range,  a 
black  mass  of  slate  2,000  feet  high.  Cut  directly 
through  its  base  five  miles,  and  you  emerge  in  the  Valley 
of  the  Deerfield,  and  may  proceed  across  the  Connecti- 
cut and  over  plateaus  of  light  grade  to  Boston  136  miles 
distant.  On  the  west  there  opens  another  natural 
highway,  down  the  valley  of  the  Hoosac  to  the  Hudson, 
and  thence  up  the  Mohawk  westward.  But  planted 
squarely  in  this  natural  highway,  between  Boston  and 
the  prairie  grain-fields,  is  the  huge  mountain  described, 
a  forbidding  obstacle.  There  are  really  two  moun- 
tains or  detached  peaks,  one,  the  loftiest,  on  the  Hoosac 
side,  and  the  other  a  very  respectable  mountain  ward- 
ing the  Deerfield  Valley;  between  the  two  is  a  wide 
plateau  seamed  by  water-courses  and  dotted  by  moun- 
tain farms.  As  early  as  1825  the  State  engineers  had 
surveyed  this  route  at  the  instance  of  Boston  business 
men,  the  project  being  then  a  canal  to  the  Hudson 
River  to  connect  with  the  Erie.  "The  hand  of  Provi- 
dence has  pointed  out  this  route  from  the  East  to  the 
West,"  remarked  the  pioneer  engineer,  Loammi  Bald- 
win, to  which  a  practical  associate  is  said  to  have  re- 
plied by  pointing  to  the  mountain.  Baldwin  had, 
however,  already  decided  that  it  must  be  tunneled. 
A  year  later  the  introduction  of  railroads  caused  the 


224  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

canal  project  to  be  dropped,  and  when,  in  1842,  the 
Boston  and  Albany  Railroad,  twenty  miles  to  the  south- 
ward, was  opened,  the  route  as  a  highway  was  aban- 
doned. But  the  Boston  and  Albany  Road  was 
constructed  on  heavy  grades  with  short  curves,  and 
could  not  put  Western  grain  on  Boston  wharves  at  a 
rate  satisfactory  to  Boston  shippers,  and  in  1848  the 
proposal  for  a  direct  route  again  began  to  be  strongly 
agitated.  The  project  assumed  shape  in  1850,  when 
the  Troy  and  Greenfield  Railroad  Company  obtained 
a  charter  to  construct  a  road  from  Greenfield  on  the 
Connecticut  River  up  the  Deerfield,  and  through  the 
Hoosac  Mountains  to  the  Vermont  line,  some  seven 
miles  west  of  North  Adams.  On  January  7,  1851, 
the  Board  of  Directors  agreed  to  break  ground  for  the 
tunnel  the  next  day,  and  this  vote,  it  is  said,  was  carried 
into  effect,  a  small  excavation  to  the  eastward  of  North 
Adams  being  still  pointed  out  as  the  scene  of  the  initial 
step.  The  authentic  record,  however,  places  the  event 
a  year  later,  in  1852,  and  the  location  at  the  east  end 
of  the  tunnel.  Twenty-one  years  elapsed  before  the 
huge  work  was  completed. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  give  in  detail  the  operations 
of  those  years,  the  trials  and  mishaps,  the  failure  of 
one  contractor  after  another,  and  finally  the  assump- 
tion of  the  enterprise  by  the  State,  and  its  successful 
completion  by  the  contractors,  Messrs.  Walter  and 
Francis   Shanley,    in   November,     1873.     These   were 


The  Hoosac  Tunnel  225 

given  formally  in  the  newspapers  at  the  opening  of 
the  tunnel.  An  account  of  the  appearance  of  the 
great  work  and  of  the  tourist's  personal  observations 
made  in  1885  may  not  be  uninteresting. 

A  mile  east  of  North  Adams  station,  in  a  deep  rock- 
cut,  one  approaches  the  gloomy  western  portal.  A 
few  yards  from  the  entrance  is  a  tall  signal  station  with 
men  in  it  watching  the  little  indicator,  which  tells  when 
a  train  enters  or  leaves  the  tunnel.  The  block  system 
is  in  use  here.  Nothing  is  allowed  to  enter  while  a 
passenger  train  is  within  on  the  same  track,  and  freight 
trains  may  follow  one  another  only  under  a  caution 
signal.  A  strong  granite  arch  forms  the  opening, 
bearing  on  its  face  the  simple  legend  "Hoosac,  1874." 
Looking  in  we  see  in  the  darloiess  bright  lights  dan- 
cing and  sparkling,  and  are  told  by  the  watchmen  that 
they  are  the  torches  of  a  gang  of  workmen  repairing 
the  brick  arch  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in ;  so  we  enter,  mak- 
ing the  dancing  points  of  fire  our  goal.  It  is  dark, 
damp,  gloomy,  sulphurous  —  one  compares  it  with 
the  descent  into  Hades,  only  the  flight  of  the  spirits 
was  vastly  easier  than  is  our  progress,  for  the  space 
between  the  ties  is  filled  with  "ballast,"  small  pieces 
of  broken  stone,  and  the  wayfarer  finds  them  indeed 
"stones  of  stumbling."  At  the  other  end,  five  miles 
distant,  a  freight  train  has  just  entered,  and  the  ear 
is  strained  to  catch  its  approaching  roar.  A  bat's 
wing  brushes  the  face  in  a  ghostly  way;  water  drips 


226  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

and  splashes  from  the  roof;  strange  echoes  and  sul- 
phurous smells  fill  the  space.  As  you  go  on  you  cal- 
culate in  a  dreamy  fashion  how  many  thousand  tons 
of  earth  and  rock  may  be  above  you  by  this  time; 
meanwhile  the  lights  draw  steadily  nearer  and  nearer, 
until  at  last  they  are  beside  you.  What  a  strange, 
Plutonian  scene.  A  score  of  men,  black  and  grimy, 
are  lighted  by  flaming  kerosene  torches,  the  black 
smoke  from  which  give  a  truly  Avemian  turn  to  the 
atmosphere.  Looking  around  by  the  dim  light,  we 
found  that  the  workmen  had  "bunched"  several  con- 
struction and  observation  cars  on  the  track,  had  taken 
down  a  fifty-foot  section  of  the  brick  arch,  propping 
the  roof  with  iron  supports,  and  were  now  from  the 
cars  relaying  the  arch. 

The  section  boss  was  intelligent  and  gentleman- 
like, notwithstanding  his  coating  of  mud  and  soot; 
thoroughly  familiar,  from  fifteen  years'  service  in  it, 
with  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  tunnel.  "The 
frost  is  the  great  agent  in  getting  the  tunnel  out  of  sorts," 
he  remarked.  "  Here  at  the  west  end  for  some  2,500 
feet  the  mass  above  us  is  loose  earth  and  'porridge- 
stone,'  and  to  keep  it  from  caving  in  while  working 
we  had  to  roof  it  with  a  brick  arch,  averaging  seven 
courses  in  thickness.  Water  forces  itself  through  the 
brick  in  quantity,  and  in  winter  freezes,  forcing  them 
out  of  place.  Then  the  arch  has  to  be  taken  down 
and  replaced,  as  we  are  doing  now.     Water  percolating 


The  Hoosac  Tunnel  227 

through,  too,  has  a  tendency  to  disintegrate  the  mass, 
and  undoubtedly  does  that.  The  tunnel,  as  you  will 
perceive,  is  a  vast  conduit,  a  score  of  artesian  wells 
in  one.  Very  often  in  digging  it  we  opened  veins  that 
threatened  to  flood  us.  Its  outflow  through  a  central 
drain  beneath  us  is  725  gallons  of  water  per  minute." 

"How  many  feet  of  earth  may  there  be  above  us?" 
we  ask,  peering  up  at  the  slender-looking  props  under 
the  roof.  "About  700;  loose  earth  and  stone  too,  the 
most  treacherous  material  the  miner  has  to  deal  with," 
is  the  assuring  answer.  "  Getting  through  it  was  one 
of  the  main  problems  in  digging  the  tunnel.  Several 
times  it  caved  in,  burying  the  workmen,  before  we 
struck  the  solid  rock  which  forms  the  core  of  the  moun- 
tain." 

At  this  juncture  a  hollow  roar  and  rumble,  pro- 
longed by  a  thousand  echoes,  fills  the  cavern.  A  fiery 
eye  comes  in  sight,  bearing  down  upon  us,  and  with  a 
hammering  and  grinding  of  wheels  and  a  flurry  of 
smoke  wreaths  about  our  heads,  the  heavy  "freight" 
rolls  by  on  the  other  track. 

A  rather  more  interesting  trip  was  that  up  the  moun- 
tain to  the  central  shaft  of  the  tunnel,  some  five  miles 
from  the  city.  It  is  ten  miles  over  the  mountain  from 
North  Adams  to  the  little  village  of  Hoosac,  in  the 
Greenfield  Valley,  and  before  the  tunnel  was  com- 
pleted a  stage  made  the  trip  daily.  A  good  broad 
highway  doubles  and  twists  up  the  mountain,  afford- 


228  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

ing  wonderful  views  of  the  valley  and  lower  hills  as 
one  ascends.  On  the  summit,  nearly  two  thousand 
feet  up,  one  passes  over  a  bare,  bald  rock  —  a  feature 
of  most  of  these  peaks  —  and  then  the  road  descends 
gently  into  the  secondary  valley  of  which  we  have 
spoken.  The  lowest  part  of  this  valley  is  800  feet 
above  the  tunnel.  "  Take  your  second  right  and  foller 
it  'bout  two  miles,"  were  the  directions  a  bronzed  young 
man  on  a  load  of  wood  gave  us  for  reaching  the  central 
shaft.  We  took  the  "second  right,"  and  presently 
emerging  from  the  forest  came  to  a  great  pile  of  black 
broken  rock  heaped  around  a  wall  of  masonry  eight 
or  nine  feet  high  —  the  central  shaft.  Light  clouds 
of  smoke  and  steam  were  ascending  from  it,  for  it  is 
the  great  ventilator  of  the  tunnel.  To  toss  a  stone 
over  the  balustrade,  one  might  suppose  would  be  to 
throw  it  directly  into  the  tunnel.  Not  so,  however, 
for  away  down  at  the  bottom  the  falling  stone  would 
strike  walls  of  solid  masonry  twenty  feet  thick,  and  if  it 
could  penetrate  that,  there  would  still  remain  a  brick 
arch  four  feet  thick  between  it  and  the  tunnel  orifice. 
This  central  shaft  is  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  en- 
gineering skill  in  the  country.  It  was  sunk  in  1863 
to  expedite  the  work  by  giving  the  men  two  additional 
headings  to  work  from,  and  also  to  afford  ventilation. 
The  problem  before  the  engineer  was  not  only  to  sink 
the  shaft  to  the  proper  level,  but  also  in  alignment  with 
the  east  and  west  headings  in  the  valleys.     The  prob- 


The  Hoosac  Tunnel  229 

lem  was  given  to  Mr.  Carl  O.  Wederkinch,  an  engineer 
of  Danish  birth,  and  his  calculations  were  so  nicely 
made  that  on  the  meeting  of  the  different  headings  in 
December,  1872,  it  was  found  that  the  alignments 
were  in  error  but  seven  sixteenths  of  an  inch.  The 
tunnel  has  been  the  scene  of  many  a  tragedy.  One 
hundred  and  ninety-two  men  in  all  were  killed  in  con- 
structing it.  The  most  fatal  accident  of  all  occurred 
in  October,  1867,  at  this  central  shaft.  A  tank  of 
gasoline  near  the  mouth  of  the  shaft,  in  some  unex- 
plained way,  took  fire  while  the  men  were  at  their 
work  beneath.  The  flames  at  once  leaped  to  the  shaft, 
seizing  on  everything  combustible,  and,  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, the  burning  timbers,  with  tons  of  steel  drills 
and  shaft  machinery,  were  precipitated  to  the  bottom, 
killing  thirteen  unfortunates  who  were  at  work  there. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE  CAPE  COD  CANAL  A  QUARTER-CENTURY  AGO 

AS  one  rumbles  over  the  wide  salt  marshes  on  the 
Cape  Cod  branch  of  the  Old  Colony  Railway, 
a  mile  this  side  of  the  village  of  Sandwich,  he  sees  on 
the  north,  eating  into  the  marsh,  a  huge  machine,  of 
which  two  twin  smoke-stacks  and  a  network  of  up- 
right timbers  are  the  salient  features.  A  channel 
behind  it  leads  straight  out  into  Barnstable  Bay,  and 
one  jumps  to  the  right  conclusion  that  the  mammoth 
is  the  dredge  of  the  Cape  Cod  Ship  Canal,  and  that 
the  channel  behind  is  the  famous  ditch  itself.  Having 
taken  great  interest  in  the  canal  enterprise,  being  too 
a  little  curious  as  to  the  status  of  the  present  company, 
the  writer  stopped  at  Sandwich,  where  he  had  been  told 
the  headquarters  of  the  company  were  situated,  with  the 
hope  of  learning  something  of  the  history,  and  condition, 
and  prospects  of  success  of  the  enterprise. 

The  history  of  the  project,  it  is  curious  to  note,  goes 
back  to  the  days  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  for  they  early 
made  use  of  Sandwich  Harbor  Inlet  and  Monument 
River  and  the  "  carry  "  between  in  their  voyages  along 
shore,  thus  saving  the  dangerous  voyage  around  the 


The  Cape  Cod  Canal  231 

cape;  and  when  Isaac  de  Rasiers,  of  New  Amsterdam, 
Governor  Minuit's  Secretary,  went  on  his  famous 
embassy  to  Governor  Bradford  at  Plymouth,  he  made 
use  of  this  same  "cut-off"  across  Cape  Cod.  By  1676 
the  colonists  had  begun  to  talk  of  cutting  a  canal 
across  Sandwich  Neck,  as  is  proven  by  an  entry  in 
the  diary  of  Samuel  Sewall,  under  date  of  October  26, 
1676. 

Twenty-one  years  later,  in  1697,  the  General  Court 
of  Massachusetts  appointed  a  committee  to  inquire 
into  the  practicability  of  opening  a  canal  across  the 
neck,  and  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  the  pro- 
ject came  near  being  put  in  execution  as  a  military 
measure,  as  appears  by  the  following  extract  from  a 
letter  written  by  General  Washington  to  the  Hon. 
James  Bowdoin,  of  Boston,  dated  at  New  York,  June 
10,  1776: 

"I  am  hopeful  that  you  have  applied  to  General 
Wood,  and  have  received  all  the  assistance  Mr.  Machin 
could  give,  in  determining  upon  the  practicability  of 
cutting  a  canal  between  Barnstable  and  Buzzard's 
Bay  ere  this,  as  the  great  demand  we  have  for  engineers 
in  this  department  (Canada,  etc.),  has  obliged  me  to 
order  Mr.  Machin  hither  to  assist  in  that  branch  of 
business." 

In  1825  the  General  Government  had  the  isthmus 
surveyed,  with  the  view  of  cutting  a  canal,  but,  although 
the  report  of  the  engineers  was  favorable,  no  action 


232  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

was  taken.  In  1860  Massachusetts  again  took  the 
matter  in  hand,  but  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  caused 
the  project  to  be  rehnquished.  Since  then  so  many 
surveys  have  been  made,  without  resulting  in  action, 
that  the  project  has  almost  fallen  into  disrepute,  and 
in  fact  the  only  company  before  the  present  one  that 
ever  began  operations  failed  after  a  few  months,  not 
without  suspicion  of  fraudulent  practices. 

The  present  Cape  Cod  Ship  Canal  Company  was 
incorporated  by  special  charter  under  act  of  the  Legis- 
lature of  Massachusetts,  passed  June  26,  1883,  and 
amended  by  acts  passed  in  1884  and  1887,  allowing 
until  June  26,  1891,  for  completing  the  work.  The 
company  is  governed  by  a  Board  of  Directors,  of  which 
the  Hon.  William  A.  Clark,  of  Lynn,  is  President,  and 
Samuel  Fessenden,  of  Sandwich,  is  Treasurer.  The 
remaining  directors  are  Edwin  Reed,  of  Boston,  William 
A.  French,  of  Boston,  Sidney  Dillon,  Charles  C.  Dodge, 
and  Thomas  Rutter,  of  New  York.  By  the  terms  of 
its  charter  the  company  may  locate,  construct,  main- 
tain, and  operate  a  ship  canal,  beginning  at  some  con- 
venient point  in  Buzzard's  Bay  and  running  through 
the  town  of  Sandwich  to  some  convenient  point  in  Barn- 
stable Bay;  and  may  also  lay  out  its  canal,  not  exceed- 
ing 1,000  feet  in  width,  "on  condition  that  it  shall  file 
the  location  thereof  within  four  months  from  the  pas- 
sage of  this  act  with  the  County  Commissioners  of 
Barnstable  County  defining  the  course,  distances,  and 


The  Cape  Cod  Canal  233 

boundaries  thereof,"  and  on  condition  also  "that  said 
canal  shall  be  commenced  within  four  months,  and  be 
completed  within  four  years  from  the  passage  of  this 
act,  and  if  at  least  $25,000  be  not  expended  in  the 
actual  construction  thereof  within  four  months  from 
the  passage  of  this  act,  this  corporation  shall  there- 
upon cease  to  exist."  Section  16  gives  the  company 
power  to  establish  for  its  sole  benefit  a  toll  upon  all 
vessels  or  water  craft  which  may  use  its  canal  at  such 
rates  as  the  directors  may  determine.  Section  19  pro- 
vides that  the  capital  stock  of  the  company  shall  not 
be  less  than  $2,000,000,  and  may  be  increased  to  an 
amount  not  exceeding  $5,000,000,  and  that  the  com- 
pany may  not  begin  to  construct  said  canal  or  take 
any  land  or  property  therefor  until  it  shall  have 
deposited  $200,000  with  the  Treasurer  of  the  common- 
wealth as  security  for  the  performance  of  its  obliga- 
tions. By  Section  20  it  was  authorized  by  a  vote  of  the 
majority  of  its  stockholders  to  issue  coupon  or  registered 
bonds  to  provide  means  for  funding  its  floating  debt, 
or  for  the  payment  of  money  borrowed  for  any  lawful 
purpose,  and  to  pledge  in  security  for  the  payment 
of  such  bonds  a  part  or  all  of  its  real  and  personal 
property  and  franchise;  such  bonds  might  be  issued 
to  an  amount  not  exceeding  the  total  amount  of  the 
capital  stock  actually  paid  in  at  the  time;  and  before 
such  bonds  could  be  issued  the  Board  of  Railroad  Com- 
missioners   must  issue  a  certificate,  a  copy  of  which 


234  In  Okie  Massachusetts 

should  be  printed  in  each  bond,  that  the  total  amount 
of  bonds  previously  issued  did  not  exceed  the  amount 
of  capital  stock  actually  subscribed  and  paid  in.  These 
are  the  chief  provisions  of  the  charter. 

The  contract  vs^ith  Frederick  A.  Lockwood,  of  Boston, 
made  in  1883  and  subsequently  amended,  calls  for  a 
ship  canal  200  feet  in  width  from  high-water  mark  at 
Agawam  Point,  on  Buzzard's  Bay,  through  the  town 
of  Sandwich  to  high-water  mark  on  Barnstable  Bay, 
near  the  mouth  of  Scusset  River.  "Nature  has 
provided  a  route  for  the  canal,"  said  Mr.  Thompson, 
the  company's  engineer.  "From  Sandwich  Harbor 
it  follows  the  valley  of  the  Scusset  River  some  four 
miles  to  North  Sandwich,  where  it  encounters  the 
'divide'  between  Barnstable  and  Buzzard's  Bays.  In 
getting  through  this  into  the  valley  of  the  Monument 
River,  a  tributary  of  Buzzard's  Bay,  occurs  the  heaviest 
cutting  on  the  line  —  59 rV  feet  to  the  bottom  of  the 
canal.  When  you  remember  that  the  hills  which 
form  the  backbone  of  the  cape  rise  all  the  way  from 
60  to  180  feet,  you  will  see  that  we  have  a  natural  valley 
or  depression  quite  across  the  cape.  There  are  several 
ponds,  too,  that  will  facilitate  dredging.  The  char- 
acter of  the  soil  presents  no  impediment.  Borings 
have  been  made  on  every  section  of  the  route,  and 
demonstrate  that  the  soil  is  composed  only  of  loam 
sand,  gravel,  and  clay.  No  boulders  even  were  met 
with,  except  at  Monument,  and  they  were  small.     It 


The  Cape  Cod  Canal  235 

is  estimated  that  the  canal  can  be  constructed  through 
this  material  for  $7,500,000,  and  that  with  the  dredges 
we  shall  soon  have  in  operation,  it  can  be  completed 
in  eighteen  months.  We  use  the  Lockwood  dredge, 
which,  from  its  great  power,  and  its  capacity  to  raise 
and  automatically  deliver  at  any  desired  distance  along 
the  banks  material  from  the  bed  of  the  canal,  goes  far 
towards  solving  the  problem  of  time  and  money  needed 
to  complete  the  great  work.  The  one  now  at  work 
cost  $125,000,  and  is  capable  of  cutting  and  depositing 
on  the  bank  11,000  cubic  yards  per  day  of  twenty-four 
hours.  It  is  now  actually  cutting  7,000  yards  daily. 
Besides  this,  two  more  are  in  course  of  construction, 
each  with  a  capacity  three  times  greater  than  the 
present  one.  About  one  mile  of  the  trunk  of  the  canal, 
you  will  remember,  has  been  nearly  completed,  leav- 
ing six  miles  and  a  half  to  be  dredged.  The  contrac- 
tors are  Frederic  A.  Lockwood,  of  Boston,  and  Smith  & 
Ripley,  of  New  York,  and  the  price  paid  is  $1,000,000 
per  mile,  payment  to  be  made  in  the  securities  which 
the  company  is  legally  authorized  to  issue.  The  con- 
tractor has  issued  construction  debentures  for  $3,000,000 
which  have  been  endorsed  by  the  officers  of  the  com- 
pany, and  are  secured  by  the  deposit  with  the  Farmers' 
Loan  and  Trust  Company,  of  New  York,  as  trustee, 
of  the  charter,  franchises,  and  contracts,  which  cover 
all  the  securities,  rights,  and  property  of  the  Canal 
Company.     These  debentures  have  but  two  years  to 


236  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

run,  so  that  the  contractor  must  complete  at  least  five 
miles  of  the  canal  by  July  15,  1889,  to  meet  these  obli- 
gations. Of  these  securities  $1,900,000  have  been 
sold,  though  no  effort  has  been  made  to  place  them  on 
the  market  —  one  million  by  a  New  York  syndicate, 
the  rest  by  Boston  parties." 

"Yours  vi^ill  be  the  largest  canal  ever  constructed, 
will  it  not  ?  " 

"In  width  and  depth  probably  the  largest.  The 
North  Holland  Canal  is  125  feet  wide  at  the  top,  20^ 
feet  deep,  and  31  feet  wide  at  the  bottom;  the  New 
Amsterdam  191  feet  wide  at  the  top,  87  feet  at  the 
bottom,  and  23  feet  deep;  the  Suez  190  feet  wide  at  the 
top,  26  feet  deep,  72  feet  wide  at  the  bottom.  The 
Cape  Cod  will  be  200  feet  wide  at  the  top,  75  feet  wide 
at  the  bottom,  and  23  feet  deep." 

"  Will  there  be  locks .? " 

"  No !  That  was  the  great  bugbear  of  the  early  sur- 
veyors. The  entire  southeastern  portion  of  Massa- 
chusetts, as  you  will  see  by  the  map,  juts  out  into  the 
ocean,  causing  a  break  in  the  two  adjoining  arms  of 
the  tidal  wave  at  the  south  shore  of  Nantucket,  and 
what  is  called  the  west  chop  in  Vineyard  Sound.  In 
consequence  high  water  comes  three  hours  and  twenty 
minutes  earlier  in  Buzzard's  Bay  than  in  Barnstable, 
and  low  water  four  hours  and  eleven  minutes  sooner. 
So  that,  periodically,  the  water  in  Barnstable  Bay  is 
5.79  feet  higher  than  that  in  Buzzard's  Bay,  and  at 


The  Cape  Cod  Canal  237 

other  times  4.66  feet  lower.  Early  surveyors  argued 
that  locks  would  be  necessary  to  stop  the  flow  of  the 
current  which  this  difference  of  level  would  create; 
but  the  calculations  of  Mr.  Clemens  Herschel  and 
other  eminent  engineers  demonstrate  that  the  maximum 
flow  of  the  current  will  not  exceed  four  miles  per  hour, 
only  sufficient  to  keep  the  canal  free  of  ice  in  winter, 
and  causing  no  hindrance  to  navigation.  General 
Foster  in  May,  1870,  said: ' There  seems  to  be  no  ques- 
tion of  the  practicability  of  an  open  passage  for  a  canal 
at  Cape  Cod.' " 

"  It  is  urged  in  opposition  to  the  canal,  I  think,  that 
it  will  be  frozen  up  for  a  third  of  the  year." 

"  We  do  not  believe  that  it  will  be  closed  to  naviga- 
tion by  ice  for  a  day.  Prof.  Henry  Mitchell  deter- 
mines the  freezing-point  of  Barnstable  Bay  water  to 
be  29  degrees,  while  that  of  Buzzard's  Bay  is  28.5, 
and  the  resultant  of  the  current  through  the  canal  being 
from  Barnstable  Bay,  the  tendency  will  be  to  carry  a 
current  of  warm  and  salt  water  into  Buzzard's  Bay, 
thus  preventing  the  formation  of  ice  in  the  bay  as  well 
as  in  the  canal.  The  company's  experience  last  winter 
in  excavating  for  the  canal  confirmed  its  belief  that 
ice  would  interfere  very  little  with  the  canal  naviga- 
tion." 

"And  now  I  should  like  to  ask  on  what  you  base 
your  hope  of  a  revenue  in  return  for  this  great  outlay." 

"  It   is   estimated   that   40,000   vessels   round   Cape 


238  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

Cod  annually.  The  Government  lookout  at  Province- 
town  Light  counted  in  the  day  time  over  21,000  vessels 
passing  his  light  in  the  year  ending  June  30,  1884.  As 
many  more  probably  go  in  the  night,  but  we  will  say 
two-thirds  —  that  will  make  35,000  in  all.  The  ton- 
nage of  between  3,000  and  4,000  of  these  taken  at  the 
Boston  Custom-house  averaged  580  tons  each.  If 
60  per  cent,  of  the  above  number  go  through  the  canal, 
we  should  have  a  yearly  commerce  of  over  12,000,000 
tons.  But  there  is  other  traffic  that  this  canal  must 
inevitably  attract.  The  Fall  River,  Providence,  Ston- 
ington,  and  Norwich  lines  of  Sound  steamers  must 
extend  their  lines  to  Boston,  using  this  short  passage, 
or  others  will.  You  see  by  this  map  of  the  coast  line 
from  New  York  to  Boston,  that  the  distance  from  Point 
Judith  to  Boston,  by  way  of  Buzzard's  Bay  and  the 
canal,  is  very  little  more  than  by  the  present  railroad 
route  from  Fall  River  and  Providence;  while  over  the 
intricate  and  dangerous  route  through  Vineyard  and 
Nantucket  Sounds  and  around  Cape  Cod,  there  is  a 
positive  saving  in  distance  of  76  miles,  and  as  against 
the  ocean  route,  of  140  miles.  Another  considera- 
tion :  the  opening  of  this  canal  would  create  practically 
an  inland  water  route,  so  that  fleets  of  barges  laden 
with  grain,  coal,  etc.,  could  be  made  up  at  New  York 
and  towed  by  tugs  to  Boston,  thus  extending  prac- 
tically the  Erie  and  other  canals  centering  at  New  York 
to  Boston.     The  actual  cost  of  going  around  the  cape 


The  Cape  Cod  Canal  239 

is  estimated  at  from  25  to  40  cents  per  ton  (of  the  $1.05 
average  freight  rate  by  water),  between  New  York 
and  Boston.  K  one  half  this  should  be  charged 
for  using  the  canal,  we  should  have  a  toll  of  not 
less  than  10  cents  per  ton,  or,  say,  $1,200,000  per 
year.  Traffic  from  the  coal  trade  alone,  we  estimate, 
would  support  the  canal,  and  yield  a  fair  return  on  the 
investment." 

Later  I  visited  the  dredge,  which  I  found  at  work 
in  the  salt  marsh  a  mile  out  of  town.  I  may  describe 
it  briefly  as  a  huge  mass  of  timbers  and  machinery 
sixty  feet  high,  set  upon  a  float,  which  is  moved  for- 
ward or  sideways  as  the  huge  buckets  eat  away  the 
bank.  The  excavating  machinery  comprises  a  series 
of  buckets,  each  of  the  capacity  of  a  cubic  yard,  fixed 
on  an  endless  chain  like  the  buckets  in  a  grain  elevator, 
the  upper  end  of  the  frame  on  which  the  chain  runs 
being  fixed  to  the  top  of  the  structure,  while  the  lower 
reaches  the  bottom  of  the  canal.  The  buckets  cut  as 
they  descend,  and  are  drawn  up  full  to  the  summit  of 
the  dredge,  where  they  empty  automatically  into  a 
large  pocket.  A  huge  fifteen-inch  pipe  of  iron  and 
steel  descends  from  this  pocket,  fifty  feet  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  canal,  and  is  carried  on  floats  to  a  point 
some  distance  beyond  the  bank.  Three  large  pipes 
from  powerful  force-pumps  below  empty  into  this 
pocket,  and  the  huge  jets  of  water  from  them  dissolve 
the  mud  and  silt  as  it  falls  from  the  buckets,  and  carry 


240  In  Olde  Massachusetts 

it  down  through  the  fifteen-inch  pipe,  and  to  the  marshes 
beyond. 

Having  heard  what  could  be  said  in  favor  of  the 
canal  by  those  interested,  we  journeyed  further  out 
on  the  Cape,  and  questioned  on  the  subject  a  gentle- 
man of  the  highest  intelligence  and  probity,  and  with- 
out pecuniary  or  other  interest  in  the  enteiprise. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "that  if  Jim  Fisk  had 
lived,  foreign  steamers  would  now  be  sailing  through 
the  Cape  Cod  canal?  I  haven't  the  least  doubt  of  it. 
Fisk  became  interested  in  the  enterprise  some  years 
before  his  death,  and  secured  a  charter  from  Massa- 
chusetts, but  died  before  its  conditions  could  be  com- 
plied with,  and  it  lapsed.  Fisk  said  he  was  willing 
to  put  $1,000,000  in  the  scheme,  and  he  induced  Gould 
and  other  capitalists  among  his  friends  to  pledge  the 
remainder.  His  idea  was  a  through  line  of  steamers 
to  Boston  by  way  of  the  canal,  and  he  had  actually 
contracted  for  two  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  they 
are  now  running  as  part  of  the  fleet  of  one  of  the  Sound 
lines.  Other  parties  took  up  the  project  from  time 
to  time,  but  could  never  secure  the  necessary  funds. 
The  present  company,  judging  from  the  character  of 
its  officers  and  the  work  done,  is  a  hona-f.de  and  not 
a  speculative  concern.  Indeed,  it  is  so  hedged  in  by 
restrictions  that  it  would  be  difficult  for  it  to  be  any- 
thing else  but  honest.  I  think  it  will  complete  the 
canal.     It  is  understood  here  that  it  is  backed  by  Eng- 


The  Cape  Cod  Canal  241 

Hsh  as  well  as  by  New  York  capitalists,  and  it  has  spent 
too  much  money  under  the  charter  and  had  too  hard  a 
fight  to  get  it  last  winter  to  yield  it  up,  unless  it  finds  that 
the  canal  cannot  be  built  and  operated.  As  to  locks. 
General  Totten  and  Professor  Baird,  who  came  here 
to  investigate  it,  told  me  that  the  plan  was  feasible, 
but  that  locks  would  be  required.  I  think  there  will 
be  some  trouble  with  ice  in  severe  winters,  and  it  is 
probable  that  larger  breakwaters  than  the  company 
contemplates  would  have  to  be  built  at  the  entrance 
of  the  canal.  I  have  heard  that  a  breakwater  one 
mile  long,  to  cost  $4,000,000,  would  be  needed." 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Adams,  Abigail  28 

Charles  Francis  3,  28 

John  27,  28 

John  Quincy  27,  28,  78 

Mansion  27 

Samuel  11,  25 

Agawam  Point  234 

Alcott,  A.  Bronson  17,  18 

Louisa  M.  17 

Alden,  John  38,  39 

Priscilla  32,  38 

Allayne  26 

Amherst  188 

American  Flag  3 

Ames,  Oliver  45 

Amos,  Daniel  166 

Anti-slavery  in  Nantucket      107 

Apes,  William  166,  168,  171 

Appleton  Mansion  200,  203 

Arlington  8 

Astor,  John  Jacob  102 

Attaguin,  Solomon  172 


B 

Baird,  Professor, 
Baker's  Island 
Banks,  Governor 


241 

72 
185 


Barker,  Jacob  128,  140 

Barnard,  Anna  71 

Hezekiah  150,  152 

Rev.  John  71 
Barnstable                75  to  84,  231 

Bay    230,  232,  234,  236,  237 

Barrington  214 

Bass  110 

Baxter,  Capt.  David  132,  133 

Sir  Francis  133 

Miss  155,  156 

Beehive  31 

Beecher,  H.  W.  217,  218 

Bertram,  John  63 

Billings  42 

Josh  218 

Bishop,  Judge  218 

Bissel,  Trail  12 

Black  Horse  Tavern  8 

Bliss,  Rev.  Daniel  19 

Bogardus,  Capt.  John  146 

Bond,  John  74 

Bourne,  Rev.  Joseph  163 

Rev.  Richard  162 

Bowditch,  Nathaniel  68 

Bowdoin,  James  26,  231 

Bradford,  George  30,  32 
Bradford,  Gov.            41,  43,  231 

Brainerd,  David  191 

Braintree  22 

Branford  13 


246 


Index 


PAGES 

Brattle  House  7 

Brewster,  Elder  William  39 

Briggs,  J.  C.  140 

Brook  Farm  29  to  35 

Phalanx  29,  30,  33 

Some  Recollections  of  33 
Brookline  13 

Brown,  John  9 

Bryant,  Solomon  163 

William  Cullen  40,  212,  217 
Bunker  Hill  3,  4,  6 

Bunker,  Reuben  R.  140 

Thomas  140 

Burckhardt  30, 31 

Burial  Hill  36,  42 

Burnell,  Barker  152,  156 

Buir,  Thaddeus  12,  26 

Butter,  Peter  22,  26 

Buttrick,  Major  John  18 

Buzzards  Bay  231,  232,  234, 
236,  237,  238 


Cambridge  1  to  4,  25 

Cape  Cod  Canal  230  to  241 
Captain's  Room  142 

Carnes,  Capt.  Jonathan  61,  62 
Channing,  W.  E.  14,  34,  215 
Charles  River  8 

Chase,  Joseph  140 

Cheever,  Rev.  Samuel  71 

County  Court  House,   Ply- 
mouth 40 
Claghorn,  George                    103 
Clapp  34 
Clark.  Mrs.  Hannah  43 
Rev.  Sylvester  11 
Thomas                               43 
William  A.                        232 
Clarke,  James  Freeman           30 
Coffins,  The                      91,  117 
Coffin,  Alexander                     140 
Benjamin                           157 


PAGES 

Coffin,  Sir  Isaac  140 

Joshua  140 

Micajah    156,  157,  158,  159 

Nathan  87,  140 

Shubael  140 

Thaddeus  140 

Zebulon  140 

Coleman,  Elihu  107 

Cole's  Hill  42 

Colesworthy,  Jonathan  140 

Commerce,     beginning     of 

foreign  57 

Committee  of  Safety  7 

Common  in  Cambridge  3 

Concord  4,  14  to  20 

Concord  Bridge,  Fight  on        15 
Constitution,  Frigate  73 

Continental  Congress  26 

Continentals  2, 3 

Coppin  42 

Cottage  City  183,  184 

Cottage  of  Margaret  Fuller    32 
Cotton,  John  22,  43 

Craigie,  Dr.  5 

Cranch,  C.  P.  34 

Cressy,  Captain  105 

Crowe,  William  42 

Crowninshield,  George  63 

Curtis  215,  216,  219,  221 

George  William  34 

Cushing,  Caleb  2 

Cushman,  Charlotte       215,  216, 
217 
Thomas  43 

Custom  House,  Salem  65 


D 

Dana,  Charles  A.  31,  33,  34,  35 

Danforth,  William  S.  40 

Davis,  Colonel  150,  152 

Senator  David  218 

Judge  108,  110 


Index 


247 


Decatur,  Commodore  115 

Deerfield        188,  195  to  199,  224 

Delano,  Warren  104 

De  Rasiere,  Isaac  43,  231 

Derby,  Elias  H.       57,  59,  62,  63 

Richard  63 

Samuel  61 

de  Warville,  Brissot        121,  122 

De  Wolfe,  James  102 

Dillon,  Sidney  232 

Dixon,  Eklward  114 

Dodge,  Charles  C.  232 

Downes,  Commodore     103,  136, 

137, 138 

Draper,  Dr.  William  H.         218 

Dudley,  Miss  Abigail  19 

Duganne  34 

Dunham,  H.  G.  O.  98 

Dwight  35 

Doctor  76 

Mary  Edwards  193 

Timothy  193 


E 


Easthampton  188 

Eastville  Highlands  180 

Echo  Lake  217,  220,  221 

Edgartown  180,  181 

Edwards  Church  189 

Edwards,  Jerusha  191 

Jonathan  163, 189,  190, 

191,  193 

Mary  193 

Rev.  Timothy  190 

Elizabeth  Isles  180,  181,  182 
Elliot,  Ebenezer  40 

Ellis,  Captain  84 

Elmwood  6 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo  3,  14, 
15.  17,  20,  35 

Mrs.  William  15 

Epitaph  to  John  Jack  19 


PAGES 

Essex  House  63 

Everett  49 

Edward  2,  4 

Everson,  Rev.  William  18 

Ewer,  Rev.  F.  C.  91 

Eyry,  The  31 


F 


Fairfield  12,  13,  25 

Farragut  103 

Fayerweather  Mansion  7 

Fessenden,  Samuel  232 

"Ffoulger,"  Abiah  90 

Peter  90 

Fields,  James  T.  40 

Fish,  Rev.  Mr.  166 

Fisk,  Jim  240 

Fitch,  Rev.  Ebenezer  206 

Capt.  Obed  134 

Fletcher,  Grace  48,  50,  51 

Flynt,  Dorothy  25,  26 

Henry  23,  24,  25 

Rev.  Henry  23 

Flynt's  Chamber  23 

Folger  110 

Abiah  90 

Charles  J.  91 

Elisha  108 

Mrs.  132 

Peter  90 

Robert  140 

Timothy  140 

Walter  140 

William  C.  157 

Folgers  90,  117 

Forefathers'  Monument  44 

Forefathers'  Rock  36,  41 

Fort  Massachusetts  205,  206 

Fort  Sewall  70,  72 

Fort  Wagner  217 

Foster,  General  237 

Fountain  Inn  72 


248 


Index 


PAGES 

Franklin,  Benjamin  90,  101,  141 
Sir  Charles  72,  73 

Josiah  90 

French,  D.  C.  16 

Wm.  A.  232 

Friends     107,  118,  125,  154,  156 

Fuller,  Margaret  14,  32 


Gage,  General  27 

Gardner,  Capt.  Edmund        135 

Gideon  140 

Grafton  136 

John  140 

Latham  140 

Micajah  134,  140 

Resolved  140 

Gardners  117 

Gerry,  Elbridge  6 

Gray,  Edward  42 

Greenfield  224 

Green  Harbor  46  to  54 

Glover,  Col.  John  4 

Godwin,  Parke  34 

Gold,  Thomas  201 

Gosnold,  Bartholomew,  175,  181 

Gould,  Jay  240 

Grant,  General  101 

"Grave  of  British  Soldiers"  16 

Gray,  William  63 

Greeley,  Horace  34 

Greenough,  Horatio  2 

Greylock,  219,  222 

Griffith,  Camillus  108,  111 

Grinnell,  John  140 

Guilford  13 

Gwin,  James  140 


H 


Hadley 

Hadley,  Samuel 
Haggerty  Place 


188 

9 

217 


Hale,  Edward  Everett  2 

Half-way  Rock  72 

Hancock,  John  11,  12,  25,  26,  27 
Mrs.  Thomas  11,  25 

Hanford,  Phoebe  A.  91 

Harrington,  Caleb  9 

Jonathan,  Jr.  9,  10 

Harris,  Colonel  109 

Ex-Governor  185 

Harte,  Bret  215 

Harvard  College  3,  23,  71 

Hall  2 

Hawley,  Rev.  Gideon     163,  213 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel       14,  15, 
17,  20,  30,  33,  65,  66,  67, 
215,  219 
Major  William  67 

Hayes,  Commodore  177 

Hedge,  Abby  150 

Hemans,  Mrs.  40 

Herschel,  Clemens  237 

Herting,  Captain  146 

Higginson,  T.  W.  34 

Hill,  Aaron  150,  158 

Burying  Ground  18 

Mr.  152 

Hiller,  Thomas  140 

HiUiard,  H.  W.  2 

Hoar  2 

Holland,  J.  G.  188 

Hollingsworth  32 

Hollis  Hall  3 

Holmes,  Abiel  7 

House  6,  7 

Oliver  Wendell  2,  200, 

202,  203 
Silas  140 

Home  of  Charlotte  Cushman  216 
of  Emerson  17 

of  Hawthorne  17 

of  Fanny  Kemble  216 

of  Longfellow  4,  5,  6, 

of  James  Russell  Lowell     6 
of  Thoreau  18 


Index 


249 


PAGES 


Hoosac  River 

222 

L 

Tunnel                 222  to  229 

Village 

227 

Lafayette 

102 

Hope,  Captain 
Hopkins,  Mark 
Ho  yoke 

115 

Lanier 

218 

207,  208 

Lathrop,  Francis  H. 

20 

188 

George  P. 

17 

Rev.  Edward 

71 

Gladys  H. 

20 

Elizabeth 

71 

Laurel  Lake 

218 

Hubbard,  Rev.  Salem 

71 

Lebanon 

4 

Hudson,  Hendrick 

175 

I^ee  Mansion 

7 

Hurst,  Rev.  William 

171,  172 

Lembert,  Thomas 

80 

Hussey,  Benjamin 

139 

Le  Roy,  Caroline 

48 

George  G. 

134 

Lenox                            210  to  221 

Hutchinson,  Gov.  Thos 

i.    26,  27 

Lenox  Academy 
Lester,  John 

218 
206 

Lexington, 

4, 

,8,9 

I 

Leyden  Street 

41 

Lincoln,  Governor  150, 

152, 

153, 

Ingersoll,  Capt.  Jonathan         58 

160. 

,167, 

,168 

Inscriptions     3,  9,  15,  16,  38,  50, 

President 

179 

51,70,71, 

, 193,  199 

Lock  wood,  F.  A. 

234, 

235 

Ives,  Silas 

140 

Longfellow,  Ernest 

6 

Henry  W.              3, 

4,5, 

,200 

Long  Pond 

90 

J 

Lowell,  Charles 

6 

Jack,  John 
Jackson,  General 

19 
103 

James  Russell 
Lowell's  Island 
Lyme 

34 
72 
13 

Jefferson,  President 

38,49 

Jones,  Ransom 

140 

Rev.  Mr. 

12 

M 

K 

Machin,  Mr. 

S31 

Macy 

152 

Katama 

180 

Francis  G. 

109, 

110 

Kemble,  Fanny      215, 

216,  217, 

Gen.  George  N. 

91 

218 

J.  B. 

99 

Kent,  Duke  of 

5 

Lieutenant 

94 

Killingworth 

13 

Lydia  Ann 

94 

King  Philip 

39 

Mrs. 

94 

Kirkland  Street 

6 

Sylvenus 

110 

Knight,  Charles 

34 

Thomas 

91 

Konkapot,  Captain 

212 

Thomas  Mackerel 

109 

Kossuth 

215 

Macys 

90, 

117 

250 


Index 


PAGE3 

Maddequecham  1 1 2  to  116 

Maddequet  90,  91 

Manning,  Richard  67 

Manomet  43 

Marblehead  69  to  74 

Martha's  Vineyard  179  to  186 
Marshfield  51, 52 

Marsillac,  John  121,  122 

Mashpees  161  to  172 

Massachusetts  Hall  2 

Mason,  Perez  186 

Mather,  Rev.  Eleazer  190 

Rowland  45 

Mayflower  37,  39,  43,  45 

Mayhew,  Thomas  181 

McClellan  215 

McKay,  Donald  105 

Memorial  Hall,  Deerfield  196 
Milford  Haven  176 

Minuit,  Governor  231 

Mirabeau  121,  122 

Mitchell,  Prof.  Henry  237 

Mitchells  91,  117 

Mix,  Rev.  Stephen  190 

Mohawks  212 

Monroe,  Robert  9 

Monument  Mountain  209  to  214, 
217 
Monument  River  230,  234 

Monuments  9,  15,  36 

Morris,  Captain  91, 92,  94, 95,  96 
Mooers,  Capt.  William  99,  135 
Mott,  Lucretia  91 

Robert  140 

Mount  Holyoke  187 

Mount  Tom  187,  188 

Muhhekunnucks  213 

Muzzy,  Isaac  9 

N 

Nantucket  85  to  160,  236 

Nantucket  Whale  Fishers  88 
New  Brunswick  13 


PAGES 

New  Haven  13 

New  London  13 

New  York  13 

Nilsson,  Christine  217,  221 

North  Adams        222,  224,  225, 
227 
Northampton  187  to  194 

Norwich  13 


O 

Oak  Bluffs  180,  185 

Orchard  House  17 

Orne,  William  63 

Old  Manse,  The  14,  15,  16 

Olivers,  Lieut-Gov.  Thomas     6 

Ordronaux  115 

Otis  34 

Harrison  Grey  78 


Paddock 

134 

Ichabod 

128 

Parker,  Captain 

9 

John 

9 

Jonas 

11 

Theodore 

29,  34,  35 

Peabody  Brothers 

2 

Joseph 

63 

Peele,  Jonathan 

62 

Periwigs 

79 

Perkins,  Thomas  H. 

102 

Perry,  Commodore 

61 

Phalanstery 

31 

Philadelphia 

13 

Philbrook,  Captain 

144 

Phillips,  Adelaide 

47 

Wendell 

3 

Pickering,  Timothy 

68 

Pierce,  Thomas  C. 

185 

Pierrepont,  Sarah 

193 

Index 


251 


PAGES 

"Pilgrim  Fathers"  40,  230 

Pilgrim  Hall  36,  52 

House  31 

Society  40,  42,  44 

Pilgrims  41,  42,  45 

Pinkham,  Obed  114 

Reuben  R.  136,  137,  138 
Pitcairn  18 

Pittsfield  200  to  203,  222 

Plymouth  36  to  45,  214 

Colony  41,  43,  49 

Point  Judith  238 

Pollard,  George  140 

Popmonet,  Solomon  162 

Porter,  Asahel  9 

Commodore  David  103 

Pratt,  Mrs.  17 

Prescott,  William  H.  3,  68 

Prince  Boston  107,  108 

Princeton  13 

Pring,  Martin  .  181 

Provincetown  173  to  178 

Provisional  Congress  2 

Putnam,  General  4 


Q 

Quincy  21  to  28 

Dorothy  11,  25,  27 

Edmund  22 
Judge  Edmund      12,  23,  25 

Josiah  2,  22,  150 

Mansion  21,  27 

Quakers  121,  122,  124 

in  France  121 

Quaker  Petition  121 


R 


Racheman,  Professor  218 

Raleigh,  Walter  38 

Ramsdell,  Frederick  W.  144 

Gideon  140 


Rathbone,  General  218 

Reed,  Edwin  232 

Revere,  Paul  8 

Rhode  Island  181 

Riley  134 

Ricketts,  David  109 

Ripley,  George  30,  33,  34,  35 

Robert,  Elder  43 

Rodmans  136,  159 

Rogers  68 

Rotches  136,  159 

Benjamin  120,  121 

Francis  117 

Joseph  117,  118,  140 

Thomas  111 

William  86,  87,  99,  103, 

108,   117,  118,   119,   120, 

121,   122,  125,   132,   133, 

135,  139 

Rutter,  Thomas  232 


Sacrifice  Rock  214 

Sailors  of  Nantucket  97 

Salem  55  to  68 

Sampson  168 
Sandwich         214,  230,  232,  234 

Sanford,  F.  C.  85 

Saybrook  13 

Shirley  Square  41 

School  of  Philosophy  17 

Scusset  River  234 

Sedgwick,  Catherine  216,  217 

Sergeant,  Rev.  John  212 
Sewall,  Judge  22,  24,  70,  72,  231 

Shaw,  Chief  Justice  78 

Hope  78 

Col.  Robert  G.  217 

Mrs.  R.  G.  217 

Sheldon,  John  197,  198 

Ships  of  Nantucket  97 

Simonds,  Joshua  10 


252 


Index 


PAGES 


Smith  College 

193 

Thatcher,  Dr.  James 

78 

Smith,  Capt.  John 

176 

Thompson,  Mr. 

234 

Smith  &  Ripley 

235 

Thoreau,  Henry  D. 

3,  14,  18, 

Sparks,  Jared 

5 

20.  215 

Spring,  Rev.  Mr. 

192 

Totten,  Greneral 

241 

Springfield 
Sleepy  Hollow  Cen 

187 

Training  Hill 

75,  76 

aetery 

19 

Trumbull,  John 

38 

South  Hadley 

188 

Jonathan 

4,38 

Squires,  David 

142 

Standish,  Miles 

38,39 

,  41,  43 

Starbuck,  Content 

92,93 

,  94,  95 

V 

Edward 

94,95 

Mrs.  Edward 

94 

Vassal,  Col.  John 

4 

Esther 

92. 

,  93,  94 

Vineyard  Haven 

180 

Nathaniel 

92, 

94,  95 

Highlands 

185 

Nathaniel,  Jr. 

92 

Sound 

236 

Starbucks 

91, 

92, 117 

Stockbridge 

209,  210,  214 

Bowl 

219,  220 

w 

Indians 

163,2 

12,  213 

Stoddard,  Esther 

190 

Waahtukook 

212 

Mary 

190 

Wadsworth  House 

2 

Solomon 

189 

Walden's  Pond 

18 

Story 

34,68 

Walker,  Judge 

218 

Dr.  Elisha 

74 

Sarah 

218 

Rev.  Isaac 

71,74 

Judge  William 

218 

Judge 

48 

Ward,  Joshua 

68 

Chief  Justice 

74 

Sam 

27 

Stoughton  Hall, 

2,3 

Warwick,  Earl  of 

41 

Stuart 

48 

Washington,  General 

2,  3,  4, 

Sturgis,  William 

78 

68,  231 

Sumner,  Charles 

2,215 

Elm 

3 

Surrage,  Agnes 

73 

Headquarters 

4,7 

Swain,  John,  Jr. 

135 

Madam 

4,  192 

Peleg 

142 

Waterhouse  Mansion 

7 

Seth 

140 

Waterman,  Robert 

140 

William  W. 

111 

Robert,  Jr. 
Thaddeus 
Watertown 

104, 140 

140 

12,13 

T 

Wayside 
Webster,  Caroline 

17 
50 

Talleyrand 

5 

Daniel              46, 

47,  48,  49, 

Taylor 

109 

50,  51,  52 

Ebenezer 

79 

Daniel,  Grave  of 

37 

Index 


253 


PAGES 

Webster,  Maj.  Edward  50 

Edwin  49 

Estate  46 

Fletcher  50,  51,  54 

Mrs.  Fletcher  47 

Historical  Society  49 

Julia  48,  49,  50,  54 

Websteriana  27 

Webster  Place  46 

Wederkinch,  Carl  O.  229 

Weekes,  Rev.  George  79 

Wendell,  Jacob  202 

Wendell,  Judge  Oliver  7 

Wentworth,  Ruth  91,  92,  93,  94, 

95,96 

Wesley  an  Grove  185 

West,  Charles  128 

Paul  130 

Capt.  Silas  130 

Capt.  Stephen  128,  129 

West  Roxbury  29 

White,  Peregrine  39 

Whittemore,  Samuel  9 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf         34 


PAGES 

Whitwell,  Rev.  Wilham  71 

Williams  College  204,  207 

Wilhams,  Rev.  Daniel  162 

Ephraim  205, 206 

Mrs.  Eunice  199 

Rev.  John  198 

Mrs.  John  198 

Williamstown  204  to  208 

Winslow,  Edward,  Portrait    37 

Isaac  52 

Maj.-Gen.  John  37,  52 

Gov.  Josiah  37,  46,  52 

Penelope  37, 52 

Winthrop,  Gov.  John  67 

Robert  C,  Jr.  217 

Wood,  General  231 

Woods  Holl  180 

Worth,  Capt.  Benjamin  130, 132 

Wright,  Porter  52 


Yancey,  Senator 


218 


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